Tonight's The Night: Epilogue
by RZZMG
Summary: Epilogue to "Tonight's The Night" by Severusgirl, by permission. After giving her virginity away to Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger must now face the consequences of that decision. Drama, angst, romance. A/U, post-Hogwarts. Hot shagging-DMxHG.
1. Chapter 1: Letting Go Of You

**AUTHOR'S NOTES****:**

I fell in love with a short story called "_**TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT**_" **by SEVERUSGIRL** (www . fanfiction . net / s / 1949184 / 1 / Tonights_The_Night), and emailed the author requesting if I could write an epilogue to her wonderful piece, since it ended at a scene that left me simply _dying_ for more. She has kindly allowed me to give you the end of this story, so here it is!

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**TIMELINE:** Begins 1998 (Hermione Granger's summer after Seventh Year at Hogwarts has ended). I will not spoil the end date for you (it's part of the plot).

**STORY SPECIFICS: **Alternate Universe (events after novel #4 never happened; Cedric Diggory didn't die, Harry won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Voldemort was not resurrected and there was no war). Years Five, Six and Seven were filled with regular teenage angst stuff for our cast, but nothing world-shaking, like in the canon novels. At least, this is what I gathered by the original fanfic as written by Severusgirl. Characters are OCC (because seriously, Draco would not end up with Hermione in JKR's world no matter what, so ANY fic with this pairing in OCC anyway).

**SUMMARY:** Epilogue to "Tonight's The Night" by Severusgirl (written with her permission). After having given her virginity away to Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger must now face the consequences of that decision...What was supposed to have been just a single night of casual sex for both she and her one-time rival evolved into a deeper, more powerful connection between them by the morning, as Hermione and Draco discovered sides of themselves they'd never knew existed before during their night of incredible love making. Unfortunately, Draco's already promised to Pansy Parkinson in marriage. He's offered for Hermione to be his sole mistress instead - but that plan just _isn't_ sitting well with Hermione one single, itty bit. Is the new, fragile, untested love and burning desire she and Draco nurtured in each other's arms that one night enough to conquer a lifetime of prejudice and social expectations? Sex really screws everything up, doesn't it? Obsession, jealousy, betrayal, a journey of self-discovery, friendship, and learning to surrender to the power of real love - this multi-part fic will have it all!

**PAIRINGS:** A darker Draco (as established by the original authoress) x Hermione

**RATING: **M+ (NC-17: explicit sexual situations - consensual and non-consensual; coarse language; physical fighting/violence; alcohol use & smoking)

**STORY DEDICATED TO: **SEVERUSGIRL (for a _brilliant_ concept and for allowing me the privilege of borrowing her story), UNSEENLIBRARIAN (for her constant friendship and support), and for the others who have shown me continual encouragement with their constant emails, reviews and PMs, especially (in alphabetical order): CEYLON, CLAIRRENO, CULLEN'S PET, DAONLEESAM, DEMIMI10, DIA*G*ONALLEY, DRACOSGRL007, ECHOESOFSILENCE, ETERNALSUNSET7, FLOWERCHILD67, HP0247, IGOTEAMEDWARD, KAMIKAZE-TRYST, KATATONICREDHEAD, KITE101, LADY SERPENTINA, LATIN TIGRESS, MS. LOUIS CORDICE ZABINI, MUSICOFMYHEART, PENPALIE, RIVER RAMSDEN, ROSE ELEANOR SCHULTZ, SARAHR85, SASOLOVE111, SIN-AND-SMOKIN, STARLIGHT-X-A-X, THE VIRGIN BUTTERFLY, VELVET STORM and XXJAMESLILYCUTESTXX.

**TO SEE PICTURES FOR THIS FANFIC (pics of the characters, locations, etc.), GO TO: http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Tonights%20The%20Night%20Epilogue/ (remove all spaces to load that URL properly)**

**I hope you all enjoy! Please review!**

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**TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT: EPILOGUE**

**By RZZMG**

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_**CHAPTER ONE: LETTING GO OF YOU**_

_**The Three Broomsticks, Diagon Alley, London, England**_

_**Saturday, August 1st, 1998 (morning)**_

With a reluctant last kiss, Draco tucked Hermione into his warm, broad chest, his hands molding themselves around the sway of her naked back. His ripped shirt hung off of one of her shoulders, dangling forlornly from her well satiated, ravaged body as she threw herself desperately into the embrace, slamming her hands into his soft, platinum strands and gripping feverishly. Inside the cage of her chest, her heart beat fiercely.

"Tomorrow night, nine o'clock, right here," he restated firmly in a low growl, nibbling on her neck. "You promise to wear another one of those Muggle thongs for me, and I'll bring more champagne and strawberries, baby."

Hermione said nothing, biting back the tears behind her lashes, leaning up on tiptoe to nuzzle her cheek against his throat, her voice having failed her along with her courage.

He was leaving her in a few minutes to go with his father to the wizarding solicitors to negotiate terms for his prenuptial agreement. He still planned on marrying pureblooded Pansy Parkinson, the Bitch Queen of Slytherin. Which meant Draco expected her to be his mistress.

That was the one arrangement Hermione could not abide. Her self-respect and pride may have taken a backseat to sanity and lust last night, but in the full light of day, the reality was that she could never be "the other woman." Something inside her would fundamentally die… not to mention her friendships would probably be destroyed with Harry and Ron, who would be furious if they ever found out what had happened, and not just the act from the night before, but that she'd actually contemplated allowing Malfoy to use her in such a manner. For her own sanity and dignity, this was one proposition she couldn't consent to suffer.

He stepped back in the open doorway, holding onto her hand, his fingers rubbing against hers tenderly, as if he was loathe to part from her. She gave him a sad smile, her heart tugging painfully behind her ribs. "Thank you again… for making my first time so wonderful."

Her lover's blue-grey eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was suspect of her lack of verbal commitment to his plans. "Tomorrow night, Granger. I'll see you then." He let her hand go and turned on his heel to walk away. Two steps out, he rounded on her once more. "I'll wait for you here - all night."

With that, he was gone from her life.

Shutting the door to the suite she'd occupied for the evening, she leaned against it, listening for his footsteps to fade completely before allowing her tears to finally come. To her horror, her knees wobbled and gave, but she barely felt the pain of hitting hard against the wooden floor as her sorrow swept her up and consumed her. With shoulders shaking violently, she sobbed unreservedly, feeling utterly foolish for having given her body and her feelings over to the young man who had done nothing but hurt her continually for the last seven years.

But all of that injury during their school days couldn't come close to equaling the pain Draco had gifted her with this time.

No, nothing quite equaled the anguish of her very first, true heartbreak.

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**The Ministry of Magic, London, England**_

**Monday, August 31st, 1998 (afternoon)**

Hermione returned to her station in the law library in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at Ministry Headquarters from a very lovely lunch break, having agreed to meet up with Harry and Ron in the on-site cafeteria (a new addition earlier this year to the massive underground maze of governance). Her friends were under the Auror's division, while she was directly under Magical Law Enforcement's directorship, so even though they reported to the same Big Boss at the end of the day, they rarely saw each other during working hours, except during their weekly lunches (always held on a Monday). Catching up with them was loads of fun, especially since they had unique perspectives on gossip within the department.

She'd just walked in the door when her slightly older co-worker and newly made friend, Jen, jumped on her in excitement (the woman had gone to school with Charlie Weasley and been sorted into Hufflepuff). "You've got a package, dearie!" Before she could utter a surprised guess as to the giver might be, she was hustled over to her desk, where upon sat said present. It was a basket of some kind, wrapped up in brown paper and tied off with a single dark green, satin ribbon.

Hermione's heart started pattering like mad.

No, it couldn't be from _him_. It was a simple coincidence that the ribbon was green, that's all. Perhaps it was an early birthday gift from the Weasleys or Minerva McGonagall (whom she'd kept in relatively good contact with over the last two months, since graduation).

"It's from a man who loves you," her friend sing-songed the prediction with confidence. She tapped the side of her nose with her index finger. "I have a gift for knowing these things. It runs in the family."

Shaking her head, Hermione sniffed in amusement. "Pish posh," she smiled brightly to gentle the rebuke. "Unless it's from my father or Harry and Ron. Those are the only possibilities that fit the criteria. But my birthday isn't for half a month, yet, and they all know it. Whatever it is, it must have been delivered to the wrong desk is all."

Jen shook her head. "Oh, no. The delivery man specifically asked for you by name. A hunky thing, too. I'd have _loved_ to have received a little 'present' from him, if you take my meaning." She growled sexily like a faux lioness and stretched her arms above her head with a pleased sigh, lost in her imagination for the moment.

Swallowing her pride and grabbing a hold of her curiosity (a dangerous preoccupation, she knew), Hermione asked the one question she knew she'd regret later: "Oh? What did he look like then?" She'd tried to sound disinterested, but there was a hint of desperation to know the truth there at the end, and she was sure that Jen would have picked it up.

Fortunately, her friend was too caught up in her own fantasies. "Hmmm? What did you say?" She shook herself out of her trance and focused. "What did he look like? Well…" Placing that same cue finger against her lips, she tapped in thoughtful consideration, as if the act could jar her memories. "He was tall, built proportioned, had an arse worth grabbing, and the most beautiful grey-blue eyes you've _ever _seen. Striking white-blonde hair that looked silky and shiny. Smelled _incredible_ – you know how I'm into colognes, girl. The scent was like mandarin oranges, Italian bergamot, anise and cardamom all wrapped up in one - got me wet just sniffing the air around him! He had a look in his eye, too… you know, like he was up to no good. From his smirk, I think it'll probably involve something sexual." She smacked her lips together loudly. "Sinfully delicious, that one was. I'd eat him up if I could." She leaned a hip against Hermione's desk and crossed her arms over her chest, grinning. "So, how do you know such a devilish angel anyway?"

Yes, that just about summed up Draco Malfoy, all right.

Sighing deeply, Hermione felt tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with indigestion from the lunch she'd just partaken. "I don't… know him, that is," she fibbed, crossing her fingers behind her back. "Like I said, it must have been from a friend."

Looking at the delivery, she knew – _just knew_ – what would be inside, and for that reason, she dreaded opening it. Maybe she could just give it to her co-worker instead? No, what if it had a card inside addressed for her eyes only? It would be a disaster if such a thing were to end up in someone else's hands. She had no choice but to open it herself. That didn't mean she had to do it here, however, in the office.

Feigning ignorance, she reached up and took the gift basket in both hands (it was heavy, and she heard the unmistakable clink as the bottle inside jarred against something hard and that confirmed her suspicions), and placed it on the floor, sliding it under her desk with a foot. "I'll open it at home. I have too much work to do right now to play around. Madam Director Bones wants the monthly report on expenses by the end of this week, and I have a slew of requests to fill." She looked pointedly at Jen. "You wouldn't mind helping with any of that, would you?"

Putting her hands up between them to ward off Hermione's request quickly, Jen grinned slyly. "Sorry, my plate is full, too." She looked up at the clock on the wall. "My, is that the time already? Must be going if I intend on making my deadlines as well! Talk to you later!"

Her co-worker hurried out the door as fast as her size sevens in heels could move, and Hermione sighed again. Quickly gathering one of the piles from her "INBOX," she began going through the book request receipts from various individuals throughout the Ministry, the packing slips for book deliveries from Flourish & Blotts, WizzHard Books, and other publishing clearing houses throughout the world, and the invoices for new procurements and re-printings. In a monumental task that took her the whole rest of the afternoon, she sorted, calculated and budgeted, then prioritized, filed and approved as many of the documents as she was authorized to do so. The rest she left for her boss, who was head of the Law Library to determine appropriateness.

And the whole time, she tapped her naked toe (she'd taken one shoe off) against the gift basket, stressed out and anxiety-ridden by the obvious intent behind the present.

**X~~~~~X**

_**Hermione's Flat - Mornington Terrace, Camden NW1, London, England**_

**Monday, August 31st, 1998 (night)**

The only person who would understand her feelings, and whose encouragement she _desperately _needed that evening as she got home around six o'clock, and finally unwrapped the present (which was as she expected, a bottle of the finest champagne and a container of luscious, ripe strawberries, as well as a selection of the world's smoothest, richest chocolates… accompanied by an emotionally devastating note that asked her to meet him in "their room" again this upcoming Friday night at nine o'clock), was her best friend, Ginny. Placing a Floo call in to The Burrow, she found the little redhead had just gotten in herself from a long day finishing up her purchases from Diagon Alley (she started school on the morrow). One look at her anxious face, though, and Gin came shooting over to Hermione's flat in London (she'd just been settled in it for the last two weeks, and many things were still in boxes).

She offered her friend a drink, reaching for one of those Muggle cold, bottled mixed alcoholic drinks (in this case, a classic Margarita), popping the top on the bottle opener that had been screwed into the bottom of her kitchen cabinet by the previous renters, and taking a long drag without another word.

"That bad, huh?" her girlfriend asked, taking an ice cold bottle of the neon green liquid for herself and opening her own lid, sipping cautiously, watching carefully.

Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter and stared across the space – the flat was a medium-sized loft with a high ceiling in one of the best parts of Camden NW1 to live in, right near the park (situated much as Grimmauld Place was, nestled between buildings magically) – contemplating how much to tell and where to start.

So she did. Gin's eyes widened and her mouth actually dropped open from practically the beginning of Hermione's tale and didn't shut even when her own mouth did and her voice cut off at the end, after having explained today's present. There was an awkward silence between them, the air still except for the movement of her bottle to her lips. She drank deep, waiting for a response.

"Holy. Shit."

Hermione continued to drink. Half her bottle was now gone. Would it be a smart thing for her to get totally plastered tonight, even though there was work tomorrow? She had plenty of chilled alcohol in the flat (all of it left over from her house warming party).

"You really fucked Draco Malfoy?"

She nodded and took another hit to whet her suddenly dry mouth.

"You gave Draco _ferret face_ Malfoy your virginity?"

Another bob of her head, another gulp.

"And now you're both in love with each other - because of one night of boinking?"

She shrugged as she took another hit. "I didn't expect it to happen, especially not with him, but yes."

Another one of those strange pauses grabbed the space for several heartbeats.

"You're sure we're talking about the same Malfoy here?"

Hermione sighed heavily in disgust. "Yes, we're talking about Draco _sodding_ Malfoy, Slytherin's Viper Prince. Yes_,_ I know who he is and what he spent the last seven years doing to me and you and everyone else, and I definitely wasn't thinking too rationally that night when I agreed to let him into my room, but… Gin, it happened. I thought I could rationalize it and put it behind me." She looked over at the forlorn basket sitting on her kitchen counter, untouched, and swallowed hard. "But I can't. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him for the last four weeks – not once. I close my eyes and I see him and hear him still. I catch myself looking for him in crowds. If I inhale deep enough and imagine it, I can still smell his cologne." She pressed the chilled bottle to her forehead and walked into the Living Room, slumping down against the sofa cushions, trying to will away the tears that burned the back of her eyelids. "This is haunting me, Gin. _He's_ haunting me. And it hurts, _a lot_. I know what I felt for Viktor or Harry or even Ron, for that short period of time I was interested in him, wasn't anything like this. That was simply lust, this…"

"Is a dangerous obsession," her friend finished bluntly for her, joining her on the sofa. "One that can seriously destroy you if you don't let it go."

She nodded. "I know that. In my head, I know that what you're saying is true, but in my heart…" The first wet trails headed down her cheeks. It was the first time since that night a month ago that she'd allowed herself to feel this pain that she'd so carefully locked away. "How could I want him, Gin? How could I after everything he did? I know probably better than anyone what he's like: he's selfish, arrogant, and cruel. How could I care for someone like that?"

Her friend took several sips from her own bottle before replying. "You said it yourself: because he made you feel special. But 'Mione, he said what he needed to so he could get what he wanted from you – just like what he's always done to women. You said he'd copped to seducing his way through all four Houses from the time he was seventeen, not to mention at least one teacher, and he probably left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. That's how he knew how to handle you and your virginity so well. He's had loads of practice."

Hermione knew everything Ginny said was true. Draco _had_ handled her with skilled expertise. Further, he'd made it clear that he could emotionally distance himself from his future wife – the woman he was supposed to be faithful to and cherish - to continue having casual sex with other women. That, in itself, was rather despicable to her sensibilities and damned his case.

Still, the memory of his voice echoed in her mind, freshly opening the wound wider…

"_Any time you want this to stop, it will. Anything you don't want me to do, I won't. All I ask is that you dance with me, and see where we go from there..."_

_"I was right, wasn't I? Better to do this with someone you couldn't...possibly...fall in love with."_

"_I fucking love you...understand?"_

She'd been so sure that she was somehow different to him. He'd seemed sincere when he left, as if she were somehow more important to him than other women. As if he had never told anyone before that he loved them in that way.

"_Please come,"_ the note attached to his gift had read. _"I'll wait all night for you."_

Glancing over at the basket once more, she couldn't help but wonder if their time together had been merely a cleverly manipulated one-off on his part, why he continued to pursue her? She'd rejected Malfoy by not returning the next night when he'd demanded it of her, so he should have gotten the hint, right? He should be after his next conquest, not continuing to pester her.

"Will you go?" her best friend asked hesitantly, having been informed of the invitation for Friday night. She was nervously peeling the label off her damp bottle.

Downing the last of her drink, Hermione shook her head, this decision already made prior to Ginny coming to her Floo. "No, I won't be any man's mistress. Not ever."

Gin clinked the lips of their bottles together in salute. "I knew you hadn't lost your inner lioness, 'Mione, even if you temporarily lost your sanity." Her friend looked her dead in the eye then, all seriousness. "You're doing the right thing not allowing yourself to be used. It's going to hurt badly for a while – believe me, I know. But you'll respect yourself for it in the end."

For the first time, Hermione wondered if that look in Ginny's eye – the one that said she understood what Hermione was going through - had anything to do with the girl's abrupt loss of interest in one Mr. Harry Potter last year…

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**Hermione's Flat - Mornington Terrace, Camden NW1, London, England**_

**Friday, September 4th, 1998 (night)**

Hermione spent the evening indulging in the champagne and chocolates Draco had so kindly sent her (she'd eaten the strawberries on top of her waffles the morning after receiving them), curled up in front of her telly and watching her favorite Muggle movies, snuggled under a throw blanket for warmth. She finished the bottle by one a.m., and promptly passed out on the couch.

That was the first night in over a month that she hadn't dreamed of Draco Malfoy.

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**The Ministry of Magic, London, England**_

**Wednesday, September 30th, 1998 (afternoon)**

Hermione returned to her desk after lunch to find another gift basket – wrapped again in plain brown paper and tied off with a green ribbon - waiting for her. Dread filled her stomach. It had been almost a month since she'd given any thoughts whatsoever to Malfoy, having promised herself to let her feelings for him go and move on.

"Another basket, same delivery man," Jen chimed in from her side, having snuck up on her unexpected. "Definitely not a coincidence. You've got an admirer."

What could she say to that? Clearly, the gig was up. Instead of losing her temper, though, Hermione simply played the fact off as unimportant, shrugging. "I'm not interested in the least."

Jen gasped. "How could you not be? Have you seen this guy? He's… _wow_. Girl, you'd be a fool not to get a piece of that action."

Hermione said nothing, simply walked around her desk, picked up the basket and put it down underneath at her feet, as she had done with the previous gift.

"Oh, my," Jen breathed out in sudden understanding. "You _have_ had a piece already. Not any good I take it?"

Shrugging, Hermione picked up the contents of her "INBOX" and began sorting through them. "Doesn't matter. I'm not going to see him again."

Her co-worker was quiet for a minute, and Hermione was comfortably aware of the woman's knowing eyes measuring her during that span of time. "If you need something, let me know, okay?"

Not looking up from her task, Hermione nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

Jen left on quiet feet, heading back out the open door to her own desk one room away. When the woman's door clicked shut, Hermione stood on shaky legs and closed her own portal, then returned to her seat and withdrew the basket, opening it.

Champagne, strawberries and chocolate.

_"I'm not giving up,"_ the attached note read in perfect penmanship. _"I'll be in our room this Friday night at nine o'clock in the evening. I'll wait all night again. I miss you, Hermione. Please come."_

She cursed her stupidity as the tears fell from her cheeks. He shouldn't matter to her anymore. He had a fiancée now. It was time to tell him to move on, so she could do likewise.

Penning a reply, she sent for an owl and bade it go to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, and give the note to no one except Draco Malfoy himself. When that was done, she went to see her boss about getting the rest of the day off, citing illness (which wasn't far from the truth, as she felt rather nauseous at that point). Then, taking her gift basket, she Floo'd home, biting back her tears.

"_Stop pursuing me," _she'd requested of her former lover in the card she sent back to him, his message crossed out purposefully above, hers written directly below._ "It isn't fair to either your fiancée or to me. There can never be anything more between us. Just forget about that night, please."_

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**Hermione's Flat - Mornington Terrace, Camden NW1, London, England**_

**Friday, October 2nd, 1998 (night)**

Ginny, Lavender, Hannah, Jen and Luna were early for their girl's night out, Hermione thought as she rushed to the door of her flat wearing only her bath robe, her hair dripping from her recently completed shower. Running a towel through it to get the moisture sopped up, she undid the latches on her door and threw it open, expecting to see her best girlfriends with offers to help her get ready.

What she hadn't expected was for Draco Malfoy to push her rather roughly up against the wall just inside the doorway and proceed to smash his mouth down onto hers in a blazing kiss that left her bereft of all cognizant thought. The towel slipped from her hands heedlessly to the wooden floor, as she was shocked into all insensibility.

"You wouldn't come to me, so I'm here for you," he heatedly growled against her mouth, ripping at her robe, tearing it open, his hot, forceful hands running over her breasts, his tongue doing damning things to her sanity. It took another minute, and the intrusion of his fingers pressing expertly into the wet, sensitive slit between her legs, for her to regain any semblance of mind and control.

Snapping to, she pushed at his bigger body ineffectually. "No! Stop!"

Draco would not be denied, however. His kisses continued to brand her, following her mouth each time she turned her head to get away, not letting up, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. An insistent knee spread her legs and she heard the clink of a belt buckle being undone, a zipper pulled down quickly. Her struggles increased as she realized what was about to happen. "Don't," she pleaded, shoving at the wall of his solid chest muscle feebly, her still-damp heels sliding on the waxed flooring, unable to find purchase long enough to make an effective stand. "We can't."

"We can," he stated firmly, his tongue snaking out to lap at hers, coaxing and taking both at once. "We are."

With that, he lifted her small frame off the floor, pinned her to the wall with his greater weight, spread her thighs wide using the span of his body to open her up, and entered her with one swift, powerful thrust of his hips. Hermione winced at being violated so forcefully after not having had sex in two long months, but gasped at the blissful sensation of being reunited with this man she had craved for so long. She felt the tip of his wand press against her belly, and the spell to prevent pregnancy – _Recondo_ – cast. When that was finished, he tossed his wand to the floor, and proceeded to give no respite, moving immediately, roughly pounding into her with the same ferocity as he had shown their last time together.

"This... is wrong," she hissed, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall as she fought the stimulating pleasure of being ridden hard and fast by him again. "We can't be together."

Draco was insatiable and driven, and refused her rejection vehemently. "You're _mine_," he snarled against her throat as he rammed his solid, velvet length into her over and over again, pressing a suckling, wet kiss to her neck, leaving behind a bruising love bite in marking. "I won't let you go," he rasped in between lunges. "I won't forget what we did." _Slam._ "Or what I feel for you." _Slam._ "And I won't ever let you forget." _Slam. _"Never, Granger." _Wham. _

Hermione was mewling into his shoulder in a combination of ecstasy and sorrow. Her petite hands gripped his arms tightly, moved to tunnel through and muss his silken hair, pulling him in tighter even as her legs wrapped firmly about him, holding him close. "Draco," she whimpered in his ear. "Oh, gods… Draco, _please_…" She didn't know whether she was begging him to pull out or to never stop, so messed up were her feelings in that moment. What he was doing to her was both pleasure and pain on a level that ripped into her very soul, leaving her confused and emotionally devastated.

"I love you," he breathed tenderly against her cheek, slowing down, shoving himself into her with long, thick strokes that didn't penetrate so deeply, but filled her up to the point of bursting, shredding her resolve. "I can't stop thinking of you, Hermione. I can't stop wanting you. Every day you're on my mind, in my dreams." He kissed her with sweet need, lapping at her mouth hungrily. "I'm lost for you."

Aching with need and love, she returned his kiss finally, giving in to the flames of wild desire that licked at her entire body, inciting the hot blaze of arousal raging between them. _Just once more_, she granted her heart permission. _This will be the last time._ Willing herself over to her yearnings, her body responded joyfully, hips moving frantically in time with his as she rode the sensual lightning he evoked deep in her belly.

Sensing her surrender, Draco's momentum sped up again, his hips lunging with renewed vigor. "Tell me you feel the same," he begged against her lips, and she felt him tighten up, felt her own body respond similarly, knowing they were both reaching for simultaneous climax.

Opening her eyes, she drowned in his blue-grey depths, falling hard all over again. "Merlin help me, but I do," she whispered brokenly, and then her orgasm peaked and freed her, floating her high above the plain of sadness that had engulfed her for the last two months, into a realm of feathery light feeling and warmth, where she was surrounded by Draco's intense want of her, and nothing else in the world mattered. It lasted only seconds, but it was the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever experienced and she clung to it, committed it to heart and mind so she would never forget how wonderful this moment with him always was.

Her lover erupted into her in a series of fiery, deep spurts at the same time, crying out against her mouth, her name wrung from between his lips in desperation as he came rather violently deep inside her. Moments later, he slumped against her breast, his perspiring brow pressed to her damp neck, struggling to regain normalcy the same as she, clinging tightly to her for long minutes.

When her lungs recovered and her blood slowed, Hermione let her legs drop down and Draco eased up on his grip, pulling out of her and allowing her to slide down the wall to her feet. When her knees stopped quivering enough for her to stand on her own, she indicated that she wanted to be let go. Draco, however, had other plans.

Leaning in, he recaptured her mouth, running one hand through her drying curls, fisting the hair and forcing her not to move. "I meant every word, baby," he admitted softly in between kisses, belying his rather dominant touches. "Not just for tonight, either. I want you to be mine always. Say you'll consent to be with me."

Harsh reality crashed in to ruin the mood, bringing with it all of the negative emotions she had ignored in the heat of the moment. The memory of the announcement in last month's _Daily Prophet_ of Draco's forthcoming nuptials was overlaid with the visual of a dark haired, pug-nosed girl smirking triumphantly for the camera, showing off a rather large diamond engagement ring while being cradled in Malfoy's arms.

He belonged to someone else. She couldn't be with him as he wanted. It was time to remind him of that bitter fact.

"And what does Pansy have to say about that?" Her tone was biting acid, rancorous as she struggled once again against her tears, knowing in advance the outcome of this fight, which had been months in the conception and churning.

Her lover tensed up, pulling his mouth off of hers. "Nothing. It's not her place to say anything."

With the return of reason and sense came a burning anger at his casual indifference to his recently-withdrawn bachelor status. "She's your fiancée, Draco. You're marrying her next May, for Godric's sake. I think she'd have a lot to say about the fact that you could care less about the vows you're about to take with her." She shook her head in growing resentment. "No, I won't aid you in cheating on her."

Storm grey eyes narrowed and his jaw went taut. "You just did."

_Wrong thing to say._

She shoved against him, digging her nails into his wrist. "I can't believe you! Just... _gods!_ Let me go, you ego maniacal arsehole."

Grimacing at the pain she was undoubtedly causing him, Draco did just the opposite of her wishes; he pressed her back against the wall using his larger frame and weight again to hold her captive, his free hand dipping between the folds of her lower lips once more to caress her where his come was beginning to slide down slowly between her legs. "No," he refused vehemently, nipping at her bottom lip, rubbing his seed all over her core, through her wet flesh, pushing some back up inside her with two fingers. "I won't. I can't. I need you."

Fighting the riotous sexual energy he was building back up between them, Hermione worked to ignore the feelings and stick to the conversation. "Well, I need you not to marry Pansy. Looks like neither of us is going to get what we want." She grabbed his wrist, trying to arrest his fingers.

He sighed, his hand never stopping its irresistible caressing. "We discussed this two months ago. You know I have to marry a pureblooded witch. But that doesn't mean we can't be together. We can have any night, weekend or holiday together that I'm not required to be with my family or on business."

Being reminded once more of just how truly insignificant she rated in Draco's life overall – that she would always take a back seat to Pansy, any children he would have with her, his parents, and even his _gods damned _work - was a vicious stab wound to Hermione's heart. She shoved his hands out of her body and used all of her strength to push him off of her. She succeeded in moving him only inches. "That's all I'm good for, is it? A second-string shag when nothing more important comes up." She sneered in disgust and pointed to the door. "Get out! Just get the hell out of my flat _right now_ and never come back, Malfoy! I mean it!" She was yelling at him now, helpless tears scalding down her cheeks in humiliation and fury.

How could she have been _so stupid? _To allow this to happen once was forgivable, but twice? Unacceptable.

She'd known what kind of creature Draco Malfoy was from the time they were kids, so this sort of heartless, self-centered behavior from him shouldn't have come as any surprise really. That she'd expected him to be different just showed how totally idiotic sex made a person. _Tigers don't change their stripes and snakes always have fangs_, her mother had warned her often as a child. Well, Malfoy was a top predator, all right, and definitely king of all things reptilian. She should have heeded the wisdom, yet because, she'd totally ignored the sage advice and done the unthinkable with him two months ago... Well, now she was paying for it - knew she would _continue_ to pay for it long after tonight, too.

She wouldn't be making that mistake again.

"I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to hear from you either. This is the end," she informed him curtly, wiping at her eyes with trembling hands, angry with her own weakness and lack of common sense. She clutched at her robe, fisting the fabric to hide her nakedness away. Gods, had she really just let him fuck her right here in her open doorway like some sort of cheap doxy? She had, hadn't she? And now all her neighbors knew exactly what kind of woman she was, too! This was a bloody disaster! "I'm going… to pretend that… that none of this ever happened," she stammered between sobs, feeling her chest throbbing in pure agony, hating what she'd become because of this wizard before her; what she'd _let _him turn her into, all in the name of a thrill or three. "Being with you… it was the worst mistake of my life!" she cursed, gasping for breath, fallen into a full blown fit now, her hands shaking forcefully as she clasped them together before her as if in prayer. "_I wish_ it had never happened! I wish I'd never taken you up on your offer!" She broke apart into so many pieces then that she wasn't sure she would ever recover fully. "_Oh, gods!_ Why did I _ever_ let you touch me?"

A fist slammed hard into the wall to her left, next to her cheek, cutting off her tirade abruptly - like a switch thrown into the "off" position - as shock set in at the escalated level of violence he'd just perpetrated. Draco was in her face again a second later, rage and pain marring his beautiful features. "What we've done… _none_ of it was a mistake, Granger. Don't _ever_ say that again!" he finished on a shout, moving in once more, trying to trap her so she couldn't escape him again. His other hand caged her in by anchoring against the wall on her other side at waist level, assuring she couldn't move in either direction. "I _won't_ go away. You can't hide from this, Hermione! You can't wish any of it away either! I'm in love with you, and you're in love with me and there's no walking away now. Why do you refuse to understand that?"

She snarled at him amidst her tears, quickly wrapping her robe fully about herself again, retying the knot, not wanting to be so exposed and vulnerable anymore. "Oh, I understand perfectly fine, Draco! I understand that I'll never be good enough in your eyes, because I'm Muggle-born." She shoved him back again, using the moment of his off-balance to gain a few steps away to the left, moving into the living room proper. The added distance between them bucked her courage some, gave her the space she needed to vent. "I understand that the horribly cruel and shallow Pansy Parkinson's _only_ credit to her name is her pedigree, but that seems to be good enough to make her your wife." Now her back went ramrod straight as her ire enveloped her. "And I _definitely _understand that you don't love me enough to want me as anything more than your fuck toy!" She roughly wiped her tears aside with her palm, her chin elevating a tad as her pride was reclaimed. "But there's something I want _you_ to understand right here and now, Malfoy: I will _never_ be your mistress. I'm no consolation prize to be had whenever you're looking for an easy time. And because you won't give me more respect than that, I don't want any bit of you or what you're offering." She pointed again at the door. "Now get out, and never talk to me again, you selfish jerk!"

He was seething, about to open his mouth to retort when someone cleared their throat from the doorway. "'Mione, do you need any help?"

Both she and Draco stiffened and went silent, realizing their conversation had unintentionally been overheard from the open entry. Looking around his shoulder, Hermione spied all five of her closest girlfriends standing in the hallway just outside her door, all dressed for their night of club hopping, and all with their mouths and eyes opened in shock. Even the normally passive and capricious Luna seemed aware of the discomfort of the situation and seemed somewhat edgy.

Turning hard eyes on Malfoy, Hermione spoke clearly and concisely. "No, I'm fine. Thanks, Gin. This unwanted guest was just leaving."

The hint was clearly received. Keeping his back to the door, Draco tucked himself back into his pants and righted his trousers, zipping them back up and fixing his belt, staring her down the whole time. The noises these actions produced were loud and obvious in the narrow space, and Hermione felt her face heat up in embarrassment; there would be no doubt to her friends now as to what had happened here between her and Malfoy. "This isn't over, Hermione," he promised in a low, measured tone. "We're going to talk about this tomorrow."

She shook her head firmly and pointed again to the exit. "You've said enough. Now go home to your fiancée, Draco. I'm sure she's waiting up for you."

Ice-hard eyes glared at her, and he held out his hand, silently _Accio_-ing his wand to it from where it had tumbled to the floor upon his entrance. He never took his gaze from her face as he Apparated away from her flat with a loud crack.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione's arm dropped to her side and she felt her heart sink to the floor. Somehow, she knew this wasn't the end. Draco's face had said loud and clear that he had no intention of giving up his pursuit of her. He was a Malfoy, and he was used to getting what he wanted, no matter what it took. He'd proven how convincing and manipulative he could be that night he'd proposed they sleep together for the first time. She'd given into him then - and that was before she'd fallen in love with him. Would she have the strength to keep resisting him?

The truth was, she was terrified of the prospect of not being able to trust herself any longer. "Merlin, help me," she whispered, feeling tears slip back down her cheeks again. Burying her face in her hands she sobbed uncontrollably, dread consuming her again.

Comforting arms came around her then – Ginny's. Gentle hands touched her back, her hair, guided her to the couch and helped her sit – Jen, Lavender, Hannah. Minutes later, warm chamomile tea was passed along to calm her – Luna.

That night, her friends sat with her, forsaking their previous plans, and they let her talk and cry and jettison the toxic poison that her love for Draco Malfoy had become. When she was utterly spent from the emotional outpouring, they tucked her into her bed and quietly left for their homes, sometime around the midnight hour. Ginny stayed over, sharing the bed with Hermione, to be there when the nightmares overtook her, offering calm reassurances and whispered promises when she awoke in tears. Once more, her best girlfriend reminded her that time would, someday, make the hurt go away. In the meantime, she would just have to bear the sorrow with head held high. A former Gryffindor could do no less.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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**AUTHOR'S EXTENDED NOTES:**

**MUSICAL SELECTIONS (listened to while writing this fic, and recommended to you to listen to while reading): **"Love Hurts," "Farewell," "Maybe," and "All Myself To You" by Yiruma.

**SONG THAT REFLECTS THIS CHAPTER SPECIFICALLY:** "Jar of Hearts" by Christina Perri (hear it here: **www . youtube . com / watch?v=HH7WXlf9WLk** (remove all spaces in that URL for it to load properly)


	2. Chapter 2: I Hate You, I Love You

_**CHAPTER TWO: I HATE YOU, I LOVE YOU **_

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1998 (just past midnight/early morning)**

Draco Apparated back to the Manor's front gate directly from Granger's flat, lowered the wards, entered and raised them again behind him. Then, he walked the rest of the way up the long drive towards the front door, needing the bite of the crisp autumnal air to clear his head, running a hand through his hair to fix its mussed untidiness.

Why did she keep pushing him away?

He'd heard the pain in Hermione's voice as she'd laid out the exact reasons, yes, and even understood every point she'd made, but… seriously, what the fuck could he do to change things now? He was contracted to marry Pansy, like it or not. His father had arranged the uniting of the Malfoys and Parkinsons from the time he and his intended wife were in nappies, and with the signing of the contract this past August, it was a legal deal. There was nothing to be done to alter that fact.

What more could he give?

He rubbed at his chest, feeling torn up and raw and so gods damned empty that it _hurt._

Why did she go back on their understanding? He'd only ever been honest and up-front with Granger that this was how his future would play out – and he'd done that even before they'd touched. After learning the facts, she hadn't turned him away that night, seemingly accepting of the idea of him marrying some other women. When it had been 'just sex' between them, the idea of him being engaged wasn't an obstacle to their getting together. But, then feelings had gotten involved, and it was suddenly _not_ okay any longer. What the hell?

He'd thought he understood women, but apparently not. He also wasn't as well versed with love as he'd assumed.

But then again, he'd never actually been in love before - which might account for why he'd been moping about like some sorry sop for the last nine weeks.

Simply put, because of Hermione's repeated rejections and obvious disinterest in picking up where they'd left off, he'd had trouble sleeping. Two months of sporadic insomnia was starting to screw with his focus, which wavered at the oddest times, like in the middle of conversations with his mother or father, or during Quidditch practice (he'd made adjunct Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps in July, after a successful try-out, but he knew his position was currently in jeopardy because he'd made two glaring errors in recent practice runs, and the coach had noticed). But perhaps the greatest sin of all: he hadn't taken another woman to his bed since he'd gotten a taste of Granger. Two months without release inside a female body! It was the longest he'd gone without since the age of fifteen.

In a fit of despair towards the end of September, Draco had managed to convince himself to just let the whole thing with Hermione drop and forget about her. He'd determined to find himself another witch to fuck around with to get his one-time rival out of his system once and for all… but then he'd coincidentally spied Granger through _Flourish & Blott's_ display window in Diagon Alley last Sunday. It had been late afternoon, and he'd been there to pick up a book he'd pre-ordered. Just as he'd walked towards the shop's front door, he'd looked into the window by chance… and stopped cold, losing all thought in an instant. The last of the sun's rays had beamed through the glass right onto _her_, and in a heartbeat, his resolve to let her go melted completely away. She'd been ringing up a purchase at the front register and talking to the shop proprietor, and whatever they'd said had made her laugh and smile. The sight of her pretty, lightly freckled nose wrinkling up in play, her lovely curls shimmering a variety of shades, ranging from dark amber to rich chocolate to deepest auburn, her honest and sincere grin that delighted her lips and disarmed him totally… He'd fallen in love all over again in a second.

Of course, he'd ducked around the entrance to the shop next door right fast when he'd seen her preparing to leave, uncharacteristically too flustered to think up a good plan – or good conversation - on the spot.

Three days later, he'd sent her a second basket with champagne and strawberries and chocolates, and he'd penned a note begging her to come to him. When she'd sent back the response for him to forget that night - as if it didn't count, as if it had been nothing more than a fucked up mistake and should be erased from all memory - he'd flown into a heartbroken rage that ended with his broom being snapped in two (he'd taken it to _Sprintwitches_ to get it fixed the following day, and was still awaiting its return). Then he'd gone to The Leaky Cauldron and reserved the attic room anyway, hoping she'd change her mind.

Tonight, he'd gone and spent two hours sitting in one of the empty cozy chairs in that same room, just exactly the same as he had on August 2nd and on September 4th, tortured by memories of what they'd done there together, helplessly reliving the details over and over, like a looping Muggle projector feeding film from one reel to another non-stop. He phantom felt her soft skin under his fingertips as they'd danced slowly, chests and cheeks pressed together; fed off of the remembrance of her nervous, excited, hungry claiming of his mouth as she tried to get him to rush things along; panted at recalling the breaching of her cherry and the tightness that had clenched his length all up and down when he'd finally been seated inside her for the first time; imaginary tasted again the salty tang of her tears as he'd licked them away to soothe her pain; reminisced with a smile over laughing in the aftermath as they both chucked their agreements out the window not to use first names and unconsciously decided to live for the moment – and each other's pleasure - instead, unafraid and honest in feeling; recalled with longing sucking sweet champagne and strawberries from her crimson-painted lips and rosy nipples; re-experienced the tingling prickling of flesh as her hot breath blasting across his throat as he'd made her come again and again in the bathtub and on the bed and on the floor…

He'd waited in vain in that chair, counting the seconds with growing anxiety, feeling hateful hope burning under his ribs all the while.

By quarter of ten, he'd known she wouldn't be coming. She wouldn't ever come to him again. Tormented with a wild longing to touch her, to taste her essence finally (something he'd neglected to do that night, and now regretted), to feel her perfect little body wrapped around his rod again until he died inside of her over and over, and to make her feel such bliss in return that he'd be burned into her soul permanently, that he'd decided to finally do something about her continual avoidance. He _wouldn't _let her forget him or what they had done, he'd promised himself. He _wouldn't_ just go away and pretend none of it had been real, either, like she'd wanted. He absolutely _couldn't_.

What a fucking mess he'd made, though, by forcing a confrontation with her tonight. Now, she hated him thoroughly.

Again, he found himself wondering: how could he have so willingly given Granger such power over him?

What did he do now?

The best he could offer the woman he loved at this point was to be his paramour… which wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be. If she accepted, he'd cherish her, spoil her terribly, and would even forsake being with any other women for her – even Pansy, once she begot him an heir. But that was something Hermione obviously didn't want from him, even though it came with his heart in the deal - something not even his wife would ever own a piece of now that he'd gone and lost it to Gryffindor's former princess.

Bloody hell, never had he been so caught up in a woman before, previously able to distance himself, keep it all fun and games… but this time, he was good and caught - just like his best mate, Blaise, had predicted one day would happen to him. But unlike the perfection of the "ideal" romance, in reality the woman he'd fallen for loathed the very sight of him, and she'd made it abundantly clear tonight that she never wanted to see or hear from him ever again.

Fuck. Fuck. _FUCK!_

Having finally made it up the long drive to the house, with a wave of his wand, he unlocked the front entrance and passed through the Foyer and Drawing Room, heading towards the Grand Staircase, needing a drink badly just then.

"Draco? Is that you?"

Lucius.

Stopping on a knut two steps up, Draco looked over the railing and down the Main Hallway, opposite the way he'd come in, ignoring the portraits lining the walls, many of whom were already snoring asleep, it being past midnight. "Yes, father?"

Even, measured steps echoed off the smooth marble flooring, growing louder and sharper as his patron approached. A few seconds later, the man stepped into sight - tall, proud, pale, leaning on his favorite serpent-capped cane, while his free hand held onto the edge of a closed hardcover book, tightly tucked under his arm. He was still impeccably dressed from whatever meetings he'd attended earlier that evening: a black, velvet robe slung rakishly over a silken, ivory dress shirt, dark charcoal grey slacks made of the finest wool, matching colored shoes that shone with spit polish. His long hair was tied back today, immaculate, not a stray strand in sight. His father never looked anything less than perfect, even in his own home.

Draco was sure he wouldn't measure up, given what he'd been through just half an hour before.

Sure enough, Lucius' acute eyes assessed his son's state with a quick once-over and the man quirked an aristocratic eyebrow in question. "You're rumpled," he commented dryly.

Draco hadn't even bothered to try to tuck his shirt tails back into his pants before leaving Granger's flat, too upset at being demanded to leave, undone by Hermione's pain-filled eyes, quivering, red lips and tear-streaked cheeks. "Forgive my state, father, but I've had a rough night."

He still didn't move to correct the oversight of his dress, which earned his father's closer scrutiny through narrowed eyes. "Son, you've been… off… for the last two months." The man held up the cane to cut off Draco's obvious reply and he shook his head. "You're too obvious, Draco. I'm assuming it has to do with a young lady?"

Turning his face away to stare down at the white, granite stairs stretched upwards before him, Draco swallowed thickly and nervously ran his fingers through his hair again, not liking how his father always unmade him so easily. He was a man now. He shouldn't fall back on childish habits. "Yes, it has to do with a woman."

His father's prolonged silence was telling, and Draco knew what was coming. "Not your fiancée, I take it."

Draco shook his head slowly. "No, not Pansy."

A deep, meaningful sigh stretched between them. "It is not my place to pry, Draco, but need I remind you of your obligation to young Miss Parkinson next May, and the folly of falling in love with someone else who may be less… understanding… of your station in life? Unless, of course, your mistress has been made aware of the situation and readily accepts the arrangement?" The last was asked in innocent pretense; Lucius was quite aware that this was most likely not the case from Draco's bleak countenance and growing frown.

Roiling fire burned through Draco's guts. "You don't have to remind me of my responsibilities. I am fully aware of them… and my circumstances."

That was a vague enough answer, although it just as obviously conveyed the truth if one were inclined to read between the lines – which the elder Malfoy was wont to do in every conversation.

"I see." Another sigh. "Well, I will trust you to conscientiously take care of your obligations, son. I know you won't do anything to bring embarrassment and shame to the Malfoy name."

With that, his father turned and headed back to his private study. "Good night, Draco. Pleasant dreams."

His heart throbbing in his mouth, Draco returned the platitude, and rushed up to his room, where he proceeded posthaste to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a full-to-the-brim glass of Firewhiskey, gulping it in one pull. He did that four more times in less than fifteen minutes, draining the three quarters-filled decanteur of its reddish amber-colored content utterly. Then he threw the now-empty, one-of-a-kind, hand-blown and crafted Italian crystal drinking glass he held against the wall of his bedroom with all the strength in his arm, smashing it into a million twinkling, ruined facets that reflected the magically enchanted fire in the hearth across the room.

Curse the world. Curse his name. Curse his hated fate. Why couldn't he have the one thing he wanted most in this whole fucking universe? Why did everything conspire against him in this instance? It just wasn't fair. He'd always gotten what he'd wanted. This should be no different.

_None of it was fucking fair!_

His fury, frustration and disappointment sank as heavy stones in his chest, bringing despair once more.

Stumbling towards his bed, he grabbed onto one of the four posts, trying to fight off the violent alcohol buzz that was quickly overtaking him. "Granger," he agonizingly bit out between clenched teeth, wiping across his eyes to rid himself of unmanly emotion, digging his nails into the wood as his hands clenched tightly around the antique, darkly stained oak column. He placed his forehead against the cool wood, trying to stop the room from spinning. "Fuck," he whispered, unable to stop the tears that fell, feeling the muzziness of too much drink, coupled with two months of on-again, off-again insomnia beginning to tug him down into darkness. Lead weights pulled on his limbs. "Granger… Why can't I have you?"

Collapsing onto his coverlet finally, Draco curled into a fetal position, uncaring of the state of his dress, murmuring Hermione's name over and over again – wishing he could summon her by such will alone - before he finally passed out.

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1998 (late morning to early afternoon)**

Draco awoke to the sound of pounding hammers. "What the fuck?" he snarl-slurred, his mouth not functioning quite properly. Smacking his lips and swallowing to try to rectify the situation, he instead gagged on the taste of shit across his tongue.

The visual that image conjured, coupled with the scent and flavor across his palette had him quickly leaning up – another really bad move, as his head was thumping angry – and vomiting his guts out over the side of the bed before he could even open his eyes. Sputtering and coughing in the aftermath, he weakly leaned back against the headboard and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to keep the next round from ejecting itself any second.

"How utterly disgraceful, Draco!"

_Don't open your eyes and maybe she'll go away_, he prayed, knowing the speaker intimately and wanting nothing to do with her today. Pansy was the last person he wanted to see right now.

He heard her move away, summon a house elf and command the creature to clean his expectorated mess up, and then she came back (_damn it all_) and sat on the edge of his bed. There was a pregnant pause. "Gods, you need a bath. You stink like sweat and… I don't want to know the rest."

_How charmingly compassionate_, he sarcastically thought, groaning and playing up his illness a tad more than necessary, hoping his fiancée would believe him ill with a catching fever instead of a simply hang-over and run for the hills without further ado to avoid potential contagion. Unfortunately, Pansy had experience dealing with Draco's overindulging on occasion back in school. He didn't party often, but when he did, he made sure it was done to the extremes.

"I'm tempted not to offer you a relief potion this time," the dark-haired witch – who had been his friend from the time they'd learn to crawl together - sniffed in disapproval. "I'm sure you did something last night while drunk, most likely with another woman. So, really, I have no incentive to be nice to you."

"Pans…" he tried to interrupt before she went off on one of her post-party diatribes and ripped him a new one.

The former Queen of Slytherin sighed melodramatically. "Seriously, Draco, when are you going to grow the hell up? I mean, we're getting married in a little over seven months, and you're carrying on like we're back in school again, still whoring about. Honestly, it's enough to make me mad - and I don't _just_ mean angry in this sense."

Merlin, his throat was raw with acid bile. He was going to chuck again any minute now. "Pans, shut it," he murmured, too icky to do more than give her a small warning before his stomach heaved again. "Shit," he hissed and then puked again.

"_Bloody hell_, Draco!" his fiancée screeched, adding to the beating his head was currently taking as his blood rushed through his skull. "Where is that house elf?"

Wanting to die in that moment, Draco vowed never to get so smashed again. Drinking at least fifteen ounces of Firewhiskey in about as many minutes was guaranteed alcohol poisoning. He was lucky to be cognizant, much less alive.

Actually, take that back. He wasn't sure he should count the blessing of 'still breathing' on his list of daily accomplishments - especially when memories of the night before roared back to life in his brain, and he was reminded once more of what an utter arsehole he'd been, and how truly hopeless his situation with Granger really was in the light of full day.

Crawling into a casket right about then and being buried six feet under sounded just peachy to him.

Twenty minutes later, he'd emptied his stomach completely, including the bile, and when there wasn't anything left to come up, he dry heaved. Then, Pansy levitated him (purposefully letting him bump his head against the wall on his way into the Master Bath) and dumped him fully clothed into his large, Roman-styled tub – which was filled with ice-cold water. It was the worst wake-up call he'd ever received and he bellowed his great displeasure at the top of his lungs.

At that point, his mother had finally come in and put him out of his misery with a potion to stop the worst of his symptoms (apparently, the malicious woman had come into his bedroom this morning, found him passed out drunk in his bed, and when Pansy came around for an invited breakfast an hour later, had conspired with the woman to make him suffer miserably for as long as possible – the evil wenches!). He washed up properly under a hot shower after that, shaving his mug carefully (his fingers still shook a bit), and scrubbed the sand from his eyes and the despair from his heart – coming up with a new plan right then and there under the spray for how to woo Granger's affections.

Drying off, he dressed in clean, proper clothing, combed his hair, brushed his teeth and applied his favorite cologne. Feeling human again, he made his way down to the Drawing Room where he had been told (rather snootily) that the women would be waiting for his appearance together, enjoying a late morning tea.

"Ladies," he greeted, politely bestowing a chaste kiss to both women's cheeks in greeting. "Sorry for earlier." Nothing more needed to be said – at least, he didn't plan to defend his actions in the least. Thankfully, the two let the matter drop, most likely having henpecked it to death while he'd been out of the room, as was their way.

His mother, he noted, watched him and Pansy circumspectly, noting the purposeful extra distance he placed between himself and his fiancée on the sofa. "Miss Parkinson and I were just discussing the color scheme of your wedding," the woman supplied to allow him an "in" on the conversation.

Draco shrugged and did not take the bait, not in the least interested in such things, his mind already going over the logistics of his new plan to capture Granger's attention.

There was a small pause before Pansy jumped in to fill the awkward space. "Ye… yes, Draco. We were thinking of keeping it traditional for both houses – green, silver and black. It is the Slytherin way, after all."

"Whatever," he commented nonchalantly, shifting his legs to they crossed right over left in the traditional European fashion. "Oh, mother, just so you'll know: I'm going to be spending the week at Blaise's. He's invited me, and I need some private time to sort some things out. I leave later today."

He didn't look once at Pansy as he made his announcement, feeling her eyes glued to him.

It wasn't that he disliked his childhood friend; quite the opposite. But ever since their arrangement had been legally set in stone, she'd been putting undo pressure on him to take their relationship to the next level, clearly torn between waiting to lose her virginity on their wedding night (as she'd claimed fervently to want prior to their signing the papers in August), and losing it as soon as possible so she could "experience sex" finally. Normally, Draco wouldn't have minded such a ripe opportunity, but in this case, Pansy was too emotionally invested in him already, and he didn't want to encourage her attachment. Theirs was a business arrangement. That was all there was to it; all there would _ever_ be to it.

He loved Pansy, but only as a friend, and it would never be anything more he now knew. Even if things didn't work with Granger, his fiancée-slash-soon-to-be-wife would never fill that space. No woman ever would again, he was quite sure.

His mother had put her tea cup daintily back onto its saucer, which was gripped in her free hand. "I see," was all she said after a space of several heartbeats of silence, her features carefully neutral and her tone even, as dispassionate as his father at times. The cryptic message was clear, however: _your father has explained last night to me all ready, and I am waiting to see what you do next._

Narcissa doted on him shamelessly, Draco knew, and she had made it clear over the years that she was always on his side, no matter how wrong she may find his actions. She'd constantly praised his achievements as a child (even when his father found those small steps forward to be lacking), and never judged him. Hers was an unconditional love – a rarity in this world, he knew, as not all children were so lucky in their relationships with their parents, such as in Blaise's, Pansy's or Theo's cases – and the woman was infinitely more concerned with his ultimate happiness than she was on standing formality. She'd been vocal twice about not rushing the marriage between her son and his oldest friend, in fact, this last time hinting that perhaps it shouldn't happen at all until the two were older and more seasoned.

In typical Slytherin fashion, Draco was exploiting the depths of her indulgence now, having no intention of telling his father about his retreat, knowing his mother would do so for him in his stead – and she'd couch it so that his old man wouldn't become upset with the news, too.

"I… hope you have a nice time," Pansy replied softly, clearly disappointed that he wasn't taking a more active role in planning their future together, and that he intended on ducking out for the next week without her.

Inwardly, Draco sighed. He was being a royal jerk and hurting her, wasn't he?

Reaching across the distance between them, he chucked Pansy's chin fondly. "I'll bring you back something pretty. Promise," he offered with a small smile, attempting to placate her.

Pansy smiled half-heartedly, trying to seem enthusiastic, but clearly still dissatisfied. "You'd better."

He stayed only a few minutes longer, then made his excuses for needing to get ready for his trip and left the two women with fond kisses on the cheeks goodbye, making his way back up to his room. Pansy did not push for a peck on the lips, as she might have done a few months back - to which Draco was _very_ thankful. The idea of pressing his mouth to hers made him queasy with guilt, when all he could imagine was Granger's soft lips under his.

Activating the Floo Network from the now-cold hearth in his bedroom, he stuck his head in and contacted Blaise. "Hey, mate, you there? Blaise?"

A few seconds later, Zabini appeared in his bedroom in Italy, having just finished up in the bathroom apparently, wiping his hands on a small towel. "Drake? What's up?"

After graduation, his friend had moved back into his family's estate in Tuscany, although he preferred to spend the majority of his time at his private, luxury villa on Lake Como (part of his grandmother's inheritance to him that he'd come into as soon as he'd turned eighteen this last April), as his connection with his mum wasn't the greatest to start (he still held a grudge against that woman because she'd let his father divorce her when Blaise had been only seven… no matter he was the only one of her eight husbands to still be drawing breath), and his six sisters (ranging in age from twenty-eight to ten) drove him bananas. Luckily, his friend was at his ancestral home currently, so Draco didn't have to track him down. "Need a favor," he got right to the point. "I need to use your villa for a week, uninterrupted, except for house elves."

Blaise smirked knowingly. "Right, what's her name?"

Draco paused. No one on his side of the fence knew about him and Hermione yet, but he trusted Blaise. His best friend wouldn't turn rat on him for any reason. "It's Granger."

Brows lifted slowly in total surprise. "No shit?"

"No shit," Draco confirmed with solid conviction. "We hooked up over the summer. She's _the one_, bro."

If it was possible for Blaise to be any more shocked, it was right at that moment; his jaw literally unhinged and dropped open wide and his eyes practically bugged from their sockets. "But… wait, you're engaged to Pans."

Draco paused, considering his next course of action. "Let me get my things together and I'll come explain it in person. An hour?"

His best friend blinked in continued astonishment, but then nodded easily enough. "Sure. See you in an hour."

**X~~~~~X**

_**Zabini Family Ancestral Home – La Marescandola, Tuscany, Italy**_

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1998 (early afternoon)**

After Draco collected everything he needed for his extended holiday, he Floo'd out to Blaise's room in Tuscany. Setting his luggage aside like a good host, Blaise proceeded to pour them both a drink and then they lounged back on his friend's sofa and got comfortable. The story took only ten or so minutes, but then his friend wanted details, which took another half an hour.

When he'd finished his tale (and his drink, for he'd been sipping at it the entire time due to an insanely dry mouth), his friend whistled in amazement. "Wow. That's…" He blinked a few times, searching for the right words to express his thought. He became rather pensive suddenly. "...not as unbelievable as I'd first assumed."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

A smirk to rival his own edged up his friend's light mocha-colored cheek and that twinkle was back in his dark eyes. "Come on, mate. You two antagonized the shit out of each other back in school. It was kind of obvious that you were attracted to each other, in retrospect. You and Granger absolutely typify Anaximander's 'Unity of Opposites of the Elements' theory."

Draco sniffed in sarcastic amusement. "Quit showing off your brain, and answer my question: will you help me?" he asked, feeling desperation clawing at his chest. This might be his only chance…

Zabini's grin was wider than the Seine. "Would I pass up the chance for front row seats to the knock-down-drag-out fight of the century? Hell no! That would be stupid... and as you are no doubt aware, my pasty friend, I _am_ known for my smarts... among my other fine attributes, that is."

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto, Draco passed his empty glass over to his peacock-strutting House brother. "Could we go now then? There are preparations I want to make before tonight's big event."

Snapping to his feet in record time, Zabini whistled for his house elf to attend him. "Pack your bags, Piccoli. You're going to the villa for the next week," he told his servant. "And tell Grandiflori to get his stuff as well. He's going, too. You're both going to take very excellent care of my friend here… and his esteemed guest."

Of course, he said all of that in fluent Italian. Draco only caught a few words, but it was enough to get the gist.

**X~~~~~X**

_**Blaise Zabini's Private Villa – Lake Como, Italy**_

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1998 (early afternoon to evening)**

When everything was finally prepared at the villa much later, Blaise took a hold of Draco's arm. "Where are we going again?"

Raising his wand, Draco took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Camden."

**X~~~~~X**

_**Hermione's Flat - Mornington Terrace, Camden NW1, London, England**_

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1998 (evening to night)**

They arrived with a crack outside of Granger's flat and quickly checked to see if they'd been detected. No one came outside or opened windows or doors to wonder what the loud sound of their arrival had been, thankfully, probably taking it as part of the city's background noise.

"That one, second floor up, at the back of the complex," Draco indicated the correct building by pointing his wand.

Blaise followed him as he quickly took the short flight of stairs up to the entry, then with a wave of his wand, opened the security lock and snuck in. "How'd you find this out?" his friend asked in a whisper, keeping up with the quick pace easily. The two of them were masters at breaking and entering; they'd done it quite often their Sixth and Seventh Years to get into various locked classrooms, Madam Pomfrey's supply closet, and of course, the girl's dormitories.

"Stalked her, of course," Draco shot back jokingly.

Sadly, it wasn't far from the truth, though. After his intended had blown him off the second time they were to meet at the end of August, he went to her work to confront her – and found her deep in conversation with her co-worker, the pretty librarian chick. The two talked about going to dinner that evening, but Hermione had wanted to go home and change because she'd spilled some of her lunch on her blouse and stained it. Curious to know where she lived, he'd remained hidden and followed her at a discreet distance. In the main Ministry Lobby, he'd listened for her to call out the name of the Floo location that emptied into her flat's main entry parlour, and later, he'd gone to the spot simply to get an idea as to where she lived. He'd discovered the number of her specific apartment quite by accident, too, when she'd come home early that same day (a lucky coincidence), and he'd followed her unseen again – this time, up to her level, peeking around the corner to watch which door she entered.

"Pathetic sod," his friend teased under his breath.

"Fuck you," Draco growled back, checking if the coast was clear before he rounded her hallway.

Blaise chuckled. "Not if you paid me all the gold in your vaults."

Draco shushed him as they approached Granger's door. He pressed an ear to the wood and closed his eyes, listening for several minutes in silence. Satisfied that no one was home (was she out with friends for the night?), he cast the Unlocking Charm – _Alohamora_ – again, and quietly entered Hermione's apartment. After prowling about a bit and finding no one about, he and Blaise located an out-of-the-way place that had an excellent view of the front door area to settle down and wait: the loft above the kitchen. They cast _Muffliato_ about themselves so they could carry on a conversation without having to worry about her catching them.

Warm, bored and still physically tired from not having caught up on his rest, as well as emotionally worn out from the whole ordeal of falling in love, Draco accidentally shut his eyes and fell asleep at some point.

The next thing he knew, it was the middle of the night and Blaise was nudging him awake. "Mate, wake up."

"Huh?" Draco asked, sitting upright quickly. "What time is it?"

"Shhh, damping spell or not, no sense in making a ruckus," his friend chastised, and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. His smile was very white in the semi-darkness of the room. "We fell asleep, it seems."

Draco swore like a sailor on a major bender. How could he have been so stupid? They might have been caught! "They home yet?"

Blaise's massive shoulders shrugged; his silhouette was visible in the half light coming in from the small window on the opposite end of the room. "Let's check."

They snuck as quietly as possible down the loft ladder and through the kitchen area to the back of the flat, where the single bedroom apparently lay. Draco stopped short when he noticed two lumps visible under the covers on the bed.

"Son of a bitch, she isn't alone," he murmured quietly, feeling hot anger poker his heart and sour his stomach.

Behind him, at his back, Blaise sighed. "Try again some other day?"

It took all of a second to make a decision. Draco firmly shook his head. "Take them both. We'll dump her fuck buddy in the lake back at the villa later, once we've wiped his mind. We'll leave his bits to the fishes and him without a wand to figure out how to get home."

"What if he can't swim?" Zabini joked.

Draco shrugged imperturbably. "That would be a terrible shame."

Blaise snickered wickedly. "You're an evil git, you know that?"

Draco didn't bother replying, raising his wand and casting a wider-area _Muffliato_, so that when Hermione started screaming and they Apparated out, no one would hear. "Ready?"

Stepping around to the opposite side of the bed, Blaise raised his wand and nodded. Per their old signal for troublemaking, they both dipped the ends of their wooden rods to a count of "1, 2, and 3" before simultaneously casting a _Mobiliarbus_ on the blankets to pull them off quickly, an _Obscuro_ to blindfold the victims, and an _Incarcerous_ to keep them both immobilized as they'd earlier agreed upon. Instantly, the two figures shouted in protest, but by then, Draco had gathered Granger to him, saw Blaise do likewise with his package, and then he Apparated them out of the flat to the Lake Como villa – specifically to the bedroom he and Hermione would be occupying during their stay together for the next week.

**X~~~~~X**

_**Blaise Zabini's Private Villa - Lake Como, Italy**_

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1998 (night)**

Hoping Blaise made it safely to his own location – wherever in the house that was – Draco dumped the screeching, struggling banshee in his arms onto the mattress without finesse and stepped back out of harm's way.

With a growl of anger, his lover tried to sit up. "Malfoy, I know that it's you doing this, you unbelievable arsehole! No one else I know wears that cologne. Now let me go before I maim your family jewels permanently!"

"Tsk, tsk, Granger," he teased with a grin, feeling lighter than he had in weeks at hearing her antagonistic voice chastise him so. Ah, yes, this was just like old times! "We've talked about your delinquent language on a couple of occasions already. It seems your stubbornness knows no bounds, however."

Realizing the futility of trying to break her bonds without a wand, his witch finally gave up struggling. Instead, she lay flat on her back on the bed, huffing from the exertion. "What do you want?" she bit, keeping her face turned towards the ceiling. "I told you not to contact me anymore. What, don't you understand plain English? Do you need me to spell it out for you, too? Maybe skywriting might help you to get the hint."

"And I told you that this wasn't over between us and that we would talk today," he reminded her evenly, losing his good humor in an instant, feeling the hurt crawling back up his chest in slow motion.

Hermione sniff in derision. "I don't _want_ to talk to you. How many different ways do you want me to say it? How about, 'fuck off and die, you egotistical prat?' Does that work better, because clearly, you're not getting the message."

Now he was starting to get angry. Placing his wand carefully on the side table nearby, he moved to close the distance between them, crawling onto the bed until he was kneeling over her. Looking down at her flushed cheeks, her parted, tempting lips and the curve of her golden skin all down her throat, he was sorely tempted to take what he wanted again. Instead, he reminded himself of the plan, and lowered his mouth to her exposed ear.

"I love you."

He said it plainly, from his soul, feeling naked and exposed in the simple confession.

Hermione stilled under him completely, seemingly taken back by the pronouncement stated in so sincere a tone. Her astonishment didn't last though. "You love me?" she grit, trembling from head to toe now. "Really? Enough to call off your wedding plans?"

Draco said nothing, merely stared at the intractable line of her jaw. They both knew the answer to that one; there was no need to reply.

She sniffed knowingly in scorn, and her lips twisted up bitterly. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Now she turned her head to the side, refusing to give him any chance to kiss her mouth willingly. "Look, do us both a favor, Malfoy. Forget it ever happened. All of it. Merlin knows, I'm trying on my end."

Her words were like a knife twisting away under his ribs. "Is that what you were doing tonight? Forgetting me?" he snarled defensively back. "Is that what _he_ was all about?"

Hermione's brows, just visible over the edge of the blindfold, dipped down in confusion. "He?"

Forcefully, Draco turned her head back to him by gripping her chin roughly. "Don't play dumb, sweetheart. The guy in your bed tonight."

There was a second's pause and then Hermione started laughing.

Draco didn't think any of this was even remotely funny. She'd been fucking some other wizard…

"That wasn't a man in my bed, you dolt," she choked out between gasps for breath and laughs. "That was Ginny. She's been staying over to show support."

Oh.

Well, Blaise was certainly in for a surprise.

Hermione's laughter cut off abruptly. "How _dare_ you think I'd slag around like that," she accused, disgust pouring out of her mouth. "I'm not… not _you!_"

His hackles up, Draco opened his mouth and let all of his toxic thoughts finally go. "You certainly acted the slag the night we hooked up! Wearing such a revealing dress and coating yourself with pheromone perfume. Pining away for Potter, but accepting me into your bed instead when you couldn't get your top choice." He pressed his forehead against hers and growled in fury. "You _used_ me, Granger."

She barked a sharp laugh. "And you _used_ _me_, Malfoy. What was it you said again? Oh, yes, how could I _ever _forget such flatteringly, romantic words: 'The way I see our situation is this: you dislike me as much as I dislike you, but we both find ourselves alone and horny at the same time. If we have sex it'll mean nothing emotionally to either of us, but physically, it'll be fantastic.' Gosh, what a beautiful proposal you made! No wonder I threw my knickers at you!"

No wonder she did so well in school with a photographic memory like that, he thought wryly.

But she was right: they'd used each other that night. At least, that's how it had started out…

"Things changed," he whispered the rest of the thought. "It may have started out as just sex, but things changed for both of us, and you know it." He gently pushed the blindfold up over her forehead, revealing her glimmering, dark eyes at last. They stared at him with a mix of trepidation, doubt and anger. "We fell in love, Hermione. It was an unintended consequence, certainly not expected or looked for, but definitely not a mistake." He touched her skin finally, letting his fingertips ghost the golden-pink flesh of her cheeks and jaw line, thrilling in just this little bit of sensation. "_Never_ a mistake," he reiterated with emphasis, hardening his gaze. "No matter how much you may want to convince yourself otherwise."

Her shaking grew in intensity. "I hate you," she whispered, and a fat tear glistened down the side of her face to sink into her hairline, dampening her curls.

In his pants, Draco's cock went hard and twitched in response.

It was just like that night…

"Say it again," he coaxed softly, pressing his pelvis against hers, letting her feel the strength of his need for her, licking her tears away once more with a soft, tickling tongue.

She swallowed hard in obvious dismay. "I… I said I hate you, Draco Malfoy."

He rubbed his burgeoning erection up and down slowly between the gap of her bound legs, working them both up, while simultaneously, he stretched one hand out behind him to silently _Accio_ his wand from the table into his fingers. "Again."

Hermione closed her eyes, her lashes beading with tears. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."

With each declaration, he stroked harder, retreated, repeated. His dick was so hard and swollen that it throbbed now.

It was pure magic - this rousing, painful desire he felt for her. Only Granger had ever made him feel like this. He'd known it since the end of Third Year, after he'd wacked off to her slapping his face. He'd hated her for her audacity and courage even back then, and he'd fallen irrevocably in love with her two months ago for the same exact reasons.

She was _his_, and he was going to have her no matter what it took.

With a wave of his wand, he cast the contraceptive charm on her belly, and then he banished their clothes and her bindings, leaving them naked and straining against each other, hot skin pressed together, damped by the dew of sexual perspiration. He threw his wand far enough away with a casual toss over his shoulder that she wouldn't reach it… just in case. "Again," he begged, continuing his seduction without pause. "Tell me again." His hands began at her waist, single-minded of purpose, and smoothed their way upwards to cup her breasts, pushing and kneading the mounds of soft flesh in tight circles.

His lover tunneled her fingers into his silver-gold hair and grabbed on, gasping in ecstasy, unconsciously arching for him as he pinched her nipples. "I… I hate you," she sighed in pleasure as he continued to roll her sensitive buds between his fingers and thumbs. "_So much_, Malfoy."

Spreading her knees with his thighs, he brought his cock into intimate contact with her drenched lower lips, tunneling through the slit to pillow between, sliding up and down again, coating them both with a combination of their arousals. He'd wanted to taste her, but that would have to wait. He _needed_ to join them together again, and he knew it would be rushed and sweaty because his body was too amped to take their coupling slow this time. He'd make it up to her by going down on her tomorrow morning - several times. He'd make her scream with pleasure.

Adjusting the tip of him at her entrance, lining them up perfectly, he began pushing into her moist, warm body once again, enjoying these short seconds of barely restrained patience, feeling her silken heat coating, surrounding, embracing his shaft again. His mouth hovered over hers and he opened his eyes to look into her beautiful, wanton features. Her dark hair was spread across his coverlet in endless, soft waves, her rich, brown-gold eyes glistened with both desire and anger, and her strawberry lips were parted in anticipation. She had always been too _fucking_ tempting... "I love you too, baby," he moaned just as he slammed his lips onto hers and plunged his hips forward with force, burying himself to the hilt.

He fucked her strong with long, deep strokes, making her whimper and gasp every time he rubbed against her clit with his abdominal muscles, assuring her maximum pleasure by hitting both erotic spots inside and out at once. He kissed her and tongued her at the same time in a matching rhythm, cherishing her mouth with every pass. In his chest, his heart crashed against his ribs fiercely, threatening to tear its way out. "Oh, _gods_…" he moaned, cupping her cheeks, smoothing through her hair and grabbing onto handfuls of thick, luxurious strands, losing himself in her taste and scent and feel once more. "Baby… Hermione… _oh, yes_," he hissed in raw, manic craving, burying his face into the breach of her throat, inhaling the mouth-watering aroma of her fresh, apple-scented hair product. "So good… _oh, yeah_… take me…"

Hermione's nails dug into his biceps and he growled in pleasure, loving the feel of being marked up by her. "Merlin, what are we _doing_?" she sobbed against his skin, her mouth latching onto his neck and biting hard, making him groan from the thrill of her teeth imprinted on him. "This is _so wrong_."

He shook his head fervently and kissed her again, increasing the intensity of his thrusting, feeling her legs wrap of their own accord about his waist. "So right… So _bloody _perfect."

Her body clenched up around him, tightening, preparing to spill over even as her moans became loud cries that echoed off the low, bevelled ceiling. Her claws raked his back, her heels dug into his arse, urging him into her harder, deeper. He complied, helpless but to give her what she needed, rocking the bed loudly with each powerful, full thrust. "That's it, baby… _yeah_… Come for me, love." He enticed her on with such words, pleading with her to let him feel her sweet release.

Tumbling from heaven with a loud cry of wonderment seconds later, Hermione's climax pulled him over with her abruptly. His mouth pressed to her throat as he shouted out the bliss of his own orgasm, his hips continuing to slam into her hard with each detonation of spiked sensation, emptying into her body hot surge after surge of his come. His completion was all erupting fire and exploding stars and _so gods damned satisfying_ because he truly did love her – _loved Hermione Granger_ - with everything he was.

"Draco… _oh, Draco!_" she cried out, literally, holding onto him, wrapping her whole body about his and clinging with strength, crying uncontrollably into his shoulder in the aftermath. "I hate you… _oh, Merlin,_ I hate and love you. _So much!_"

Curiously, he understood exactly what she meant. Draco had been with a whole lot of women in his short life – dozens – and yet he'd never known anything like this feeling except with _her_. It was so powerful and overwhelming, devastating even, and absolutely impossible to deny. What he and Granger had… it was definitely, as Blaise had so accurately pointed out, a union of opposite attraction - both shockingly repulsive in its destructive capability, rendering him totally vulnerable, and at the same time, forcefully, persuasively attractive in the unending joy it filled him up with. It scared the shite out of him, honestly, but he had no will to walk away from it either.

Still intimately connected deep inside Hermione's body, he wrapped his arms about her small frame and gently held her close. "I know, baby. Me, too."

Biting back a yawn, as exhaustion pulled at him now that he'd ejaculated, Draco forced himself to keep his eyes open, to explain why he'd brought her here, but no matter how he tried, he found himself fighting to not lose consciousness. "Stay the night?" he asked, beginning to mumble, lulled towards sleep by her warmth and touch. "I'll explain tomorrow - everything. Promise." He yawned again, shook his head to try to clear the dimming veil that was overtaking his mind, to no avail. "Please stay."

Under him, he felt his lover's deep inhalation and heard the escaping, tired sigh. "Until tomorrow," she stifled a yawn into his shoulder, drifting just as he was, apparently.

He let out a small sigh of relief, and rolled to his side, taking her with him, tucking her against his chest and under his chin. "I hate and love you, too, Granger. _So __very__ much_."

With that, his chin drooped and he was out for the count.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

_**

* * *

**_**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

_**Wimbourne Wasps**_** – A Quidditch team mentioned in J.K.R.'s "Quidditch Through The Ages." According to their entry in the book, this team wears "horizontally striped robes of yellow and black with a wasp on their chests. Founded in 1312, the Wasps have been eighteen times League winners and twice semifinalists in the European Cup."**

_**Anaximander**_** – Was a philosopher of Ancient Greek during the 5th century B.C. He's considered the first scientist in western thought. According to him, "the Universe originates in the separation of opposites in the primordial matter. It embraces the opposites of hot and cold, wet and dry, and directs the movement of things; an entire host of shapes and differences then grow that are found in "all the worlds" (for he believed there were many)." Source: Wikipedia.**

******SONG THAT REFLECTS THIS CHAPTER SPECIFICALLY**: "Everything But Mine" by Backstreet Boys. 


	3. Chapter 3: Do You Really Know Me?

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**_

This is the beginning of the _really_ emotionally difficult chapters – the storm that must be ridden out before there can be a rainbow at the end, so to speak. **Hang in there with this story, please!** I've got it all plotted out, and the ride will be bumpy, most certainly, but I believe satisfying in the end for all Dramione fans.

Oh, and as noted at the top of chapter one's notes, please remember that this story runs under the assumption that Voldemort was never resurrected, and thus there was no war (vols. 5-7 never happened, and Cedric didn't die in the Tri-Wiz Tournament, which Harry won – and donated some of the money to Fred & George so they could begin Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, which by this time would have been an actual open shop in the Alley, and probably doing just as well as JKR imagined). That means, Hermione, Harry and Ron aren't as famous in the wizarding world (Harry is known because he's The-Boy-Who-Lived, but Hermione's really nothing important), and Draco's family is politically scary and powerful still. Just keep that in mind when reading.

**Please review!** Tell me – did the chapter affect you, and if so, how? Or, did it fizzle for you? What are you expecting to happen next?

**Check out the pictures of all of the characters as I visualize them for this fic here: http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Tonights%20The%20Night%20Epilogue / (remove all the spaces to make that URL work)**

**Finally, in case you haven't seen it yet, the extremely talented "starlight-x-A-x" made a GORGEOUS music video for this story. You can find it here: http:/ / www . youtube . com / watch?v=IN5TO1mUEFg (get rid of all spaces in that URL to make it work)**

* * *

_**CHAPTER THREE: DO YOU REALLY KNOW ME?**_

_**Blaise Zabini's Private Villa - Lake Como, Italy**_

**Sunday, October 4th, 1998 (morning)**

Hermione awoke to the sensation of something liquid, soft and warm lapping between her legs, and reached out with instinctive need to grasp onto silken, platinum-blonde hair, thrusting her hips gently forward at the same time. As if she'd never stopped dreaming, the world slipped away from her consciousness, and there was nothing but the rapture as she writhed under Draco's expert lips and tongue as he ate her out with tender intensity. Heart leaping into her mouth, she cried out his name with her release a moment later.

Imagining herself insubstantial, emotionally buoyant for the moment, she watched with indolent interest as he rose above her, his weight supported on his palms, and entered her gently. The feel of his solid, hot flesh slowly parting her, making them into one connected being, moved her soul once again and she sighed with passion, tilting her head back on the pillow. "Draco…" she whispered.

He watched her face intently as he moved, coaxing her towards her second climax by describing for her how she felt around him, how beautiful she was, how he loved watching her come undone like this, and how much he loved her. Crying out as the petite orgasm crept up on her, melting her inside and out, he joined her seconds later, calling out for her as his life-giving seed spilled inside.

It was only in the calm after that she realized he hadn't cast the Contraceptive Charm on her.

"Relax," he kissed her sweetly. "I did it while you were sleeping. No matter what else you may think of me, I wouldn't do that to you."

Pulling out of her body, he spooned at her side, caressing her arm with his hand, nuzzling her throat with his nose and lips, and Hermione gave herself these seconds to pretend that theirs was a normal, romantic relationship, and that she could wake up every day for the rest of her life just like this, if she wanted it.

But she couldn't, could she?

Hateful reality reared its ugly head again, making the dreamy, quixotic quality of the last few minutes dissolve away until only the cold, hard truth remained behind to ruin the moment. "You said you'd explain why you kidnapped me," she reminded him, pulling away and sitting up, refusing to look at him and using the sheet to cover up her nudity. It was a silly attempt, really, given all they'd just been doing, but being naked made her feel even more vulnerable around this wizard than anything else. The act of covering up her breasts and thatch and backside was really her way of protecting herself.

Draco seemed to understand what she was about, for he gave the sheet a rather urgent tug, pulling it from her. "Spend this day with me, and we'll talk."

Inside her chest, Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she shook her head. "What will a day accomplish? You made it clear last night that you wouldn't break your upcoming nuptials. I've already told you that I won't be your mistress. What more is there to say?"

He was quiet for a heartbeat or two. "I love you."

Holding onto her self-control by a thread, she stared off across the room for something – anything – to give her the excuse she needed to escape. Noting the round, marble Roman-styled tub on the other side of the room, she latched on to it for an idea. "I want a bath, and then I want you to take me home, please," she requested in the most even tone she could muster. Sadly, her voice broke on the word 'home,' giving her fragility away.

The bed shifted, and Draco was pressed against her back, his well-muscled chest and arms cradling her in his heat and strength. "Stay the day. I'll have you back by tomorrow morning, in time for your work."

Body quaking in his embrace, her heart warred with her mind. He bent his lips to her throat as she began to shake her head to deny his request. "It's not a good idea for either of us."

"Give us today," he begged.

Pleading was something she never in her wildest dreams thought she ever hear Draco Malfoy do. It made her decision easy, took the responsibility out of her hands; after all, she was merely reacting to the shock of hearing him supplicate himself.

"This will be our goodbye, Draco," she told him resolutely, wiping away her tears, her heart breaking at the words she forced past her teeth. "Just one last day together."

He shifted off the bed and pulled her up into the shelter of his arms, hugging her tightly, his hands smoothing over her spine, up her waist, to bury in her tangled, curly hair and pull her face up to his. "I love you," he avowed again as he claimed her lips in a searing kiss that made her toes curl. Against her better judgment, her hands gripped his shoulders tight, digging in.

Silently _Accio_-ing his wand to his hand, he led them towards the large tub, kissing her every step of the way, stopping only when they were leaning against one of the four marble columns that braced the rotunda ceiling above the bath. Waving his wand over the carved stone and tile basin, he filled it with hot water, then reached into the basket on the lip for a scented oil, sniffing a few before finding a scent he liked and adding it to the bath. Satisfied, he turned the wand on her and cast the Contraceptive Charm again on her abdomen, then set his wand down on the lip of the bath.

Leading her into the water, he settled against the edge, placing her between his legs, holding her tightly to him as he leaned her back into his chest. The fragrance of jasmine and Ylang Ylang was both familiar and heady, acutely reminding Hermione of their first night together at _The Leaky Cauldron_. She inhaled deeply as they lay back together, attempting to relax.

"Do you like your apple-cinnamon muffins with tea or coffee?"

It was an odd, completely unexpected question to break apart the silence. "How did you know I liked those?"

He glanced down at her, his fingers lazily rubbing circles over her belly as he explained. "You've had one on your desk both times I went to the Ministry to deliver your baskets to your office."

"Oh." What a weird thing to notice. "I like cappuccino, if you must know, although I'll take coffee with cream and a spoonful of sweet in a pinch." Her fingernails ran up and down the outside of his thighs absently, as she considered his swell powers of observation. "What else do you know of me?"

He was quiet for a moment, considering the question. "I know your favorite book is _Hogwarts, A History_. Your favorite colors are periwinkle and pale blue, not red and gold. Your birthday is September 19th, and you're eight months older than me. Your ugly, pug-nosed cat from our school days now lives with your parents, because you can't have pets in your flat. You scored more N.E.W.T.s than anyone in the history of Hogwarts, and are perfect at every subject, except flying a broom, which you hate. You read voraciously." He rubbed his cheek against the back of her hair. "You like jam, but not marmalade, pick all of the currants out of your scones and don't really like pumpkin pasties, but you _do_ enjoy strawberries and champagne – especially together. You like to dance, but are self-conscious of how others may be watching you, so tone your moves down. You've been known to wear pheromone perfume to entice a man – how very Slytherin of you, by the way. Oh, and your co-worker has a slight crush on me."

His fingers teased higher, tracing her sternum and ribs with just the right pressure and she giggled.

"Ah, and you're ticklish, it seems," he teased. His fingers continued their slow caress of her skin, feathering the bottom curve of her breasts before sliding around and up to trace her nipples, making them instantly taut. "I know I took your virginity," he murmured low in her ear, causing a shiver up her spine. "I've had all your firsts so far, haven't I, Hermione? I've been the first to French kiss you, to suckle on these pretty breasts, to taste your sweet pussy." He pinched her tiny buds and drew them out from her body a bit, causing the most delicious shockwave through her abdomen, making her gasp. Unconsciously, her nails dug into his thighs as she reached for something to ground her, for she felt as if she were floating just then. "I was the first to enter your body, to come deep inside of you, to bring you into your womanhood."

Against her backside, his erection was once more prominent and straining, and his lips traced over her earlobe seductively as he continued to whisper his devilish enticements. "I was the first man to see you orgasm - to watch your beautiful, dark eyes shine with that shimmery light that comes right when you're on the cusp of crashing over, to watch your blood pink your cheeks, to hear your moans, to capture your cry of ecstasy as you climaxed." He nipped her throat, trailed his nose into her hairline, inhaling deep, cupped her breasts and began kneading gently. "I know your body's scent, taste, and softness, baby. I know how your hair feels through my fingers, what your skin feels like wet from a bath, and how you look when you first wake up. I know how wild you can be, and how shy. I know how you look when you love a man; I've seen you stare into my soul with your heart in your eyes." He kissed her temple. "I know you, Granger – the _real_ you, the side no one else has _ever_ seen."

"You can't…" she denied, feeling her heart pounding in both fear and anticipation, in both vulnerability and in wonder.

Her lover relentlessly continued his slow exploration of her body. "I _know_ you," he reiterated again and again as he rubbed the oily, scented water all over her, cupping it and running it through her hair, saturating the curls, assuring it covered her from head to toe. "That's why I love you so much."

When they were both nice and slick, he gathered her in his arms and with a mighty pull, lifted them out of the water. Bending her forward, resting her hands upon one of the marble columns, he came into her wet, aching core from behind. With powerful thrusts, he drove her into bliss once more, making her shout her love for him once again before he'd hit her inside 'special spot' _just right_ and tipped her over the edge.

As she recovered from that mind-blowing orgasm, her legs shaking, her forehead resting on the marble to cool her down, he took another of her firsts. Running oil over his length and then between her cheeks, he pierced her small hole in the back with first one, then two fingers, stretching her open, preparing her. When the sensation of his thrusting became somewhat pleasurable, he replaced his hand with his rock-hard penis. Nice and slow, he breached her back entry, assuring her comfort the entire time, talking her through it and helping her to relax. When he was buried to the hilt in her, he stilled, giving her time to adjust, murmuring that he loved her so very, _very_ much and thanking her for giving him this chance to know her in this way.

It hurt at first, just like the first time they'd had intercourse, but eventually, it became somewhat pleasurable, especially when Draco found another 'special spot' deep inside her and exploited it. Combining the gentle, unhurried surging of his hips with her own fingers caressing her clitoris at his behest, Hermione eventually came again – this time, bringing him with her. It was a different feeling, his semen shooting into her here: both hot and filling.

In the afters, as she lay in a light doze in his arms back under the warmth of the bathwater, she realized that Malfoy was right: he _did_ know her better than even she knew herself… and he was ruthlessly exploiting that fact to bend her to his will. His real intentions towards her were broadcast in every touch, in every kiss, and in every cleverly spoken phrase: clearly, he planned to use all of the Slytherin tricks in his repertoire over the next several hours to accomplish his goal of breaking down her resolve not to become his mistress. If she surrendered, offering him everything so he'd never stop loving her like this, he'd own her in every way.

Hermione promised herself then and there that she would not allow him to conquer her. She would use this time today to make her memories and to say goodbye to Draco in her heart, as she'd intended, and tomorrow, she would close this chapter of her life forever. There really was no other choice if she expected to survive this affair with her sanity and her dignity intact.

Eventually, they got out of the tub, and hopped into the nearby shower to clean the oil (and other fluids, in her case) off of them with soap, shampoo and conditioner. After, they found the clothes he'd packed in advance – including the overnight bag he'd prepared for her – and got dressed, making their way down to the formal dining room to partake of brunch.

X~~~~~X

_**(same location, that same afternoon)**_

Ginny and Blaise joined them as Zabini's house elf (a rather nicely-dressed and happy thing, she noted with some surprise) brought them food. The two had been up for hours and taken breakfast already, so this was their lunch (after the prerequisite fight from being kidnapped, of course; the dark-skinned Slytherin sported a rather comical puffy, split lip from where Ginny had punched him, Hermione noted with some amusement).

"The property borders the lake front and is private," Blaise commented off-handedly, cutting up his prosciutto neatly. "And the weather is rather nice today for a walk, if you fancy."

Ginny swallowed a gulp of coffee, made a face at its strength, and promptly added cream. "We took a walk earlier to talk. It's beautiful out there." Sampling her beverage, she smiled, pleased with the results of her mixture, and sat back in her chair to enjoy it. "Zabini's taking me home whenever I want today. Classes tomorrow, and all that. I figured I'd stay and take in the sites until dinner at least. I've never been to Italy. You staying?"

Hermione paused in sipping with her coffee raised to her lips, and she could feel Draco's eyes on her as she nodded. "A while longer."

Ginny's stare was as pointed as Malfoy's. "You sure?" her best girlfriend asked, making no apologies for her over-protectiveness.

Glancing across the table at her, Hermione attempted a reassuring smile. "Yes."

As easily as that, the issue was decided, and it wasn't long before Zabini managed to finagle he and Ginny out of the conversation, then out of the room, with an offer to take the young woman into the nearby wizarding section of town for some shopping – all on him. Before she left, Ginny was squealing in delight; the gleam in her friend's eyes said she planned to take full advantage of her companion's offer to foot the bill for the afternoon's excursion. Blaise Zabini had absolutely no idea what he'd just gotten himself into. The man was doomed. He'd be lucky to come out of today with a galleon to his name.

There was a queer awkwardness between her and Draco when they were alone again, and it occurred to her why: they'd barely spent any time together, aside from their first night, the one-off sex against the wall at her flat, and this morning. They'd never even had a proper date!

"Would you like a tour?" he asked politely, putting his china down and dabbing his lips with his napkin.

Hermione mimicked him, realizing that her appetite had suddenly gone away; the metaphorical eels taking up slippery residence in her guts were making her ill just then. "It would be nice to know where we are, yes."

Draco stood and walked around the table to her side, holding his hand out to help her up. She accepted it, and found herself pressed uncomfortably close to him, having to stare up the distance to meet his gaze. Was she really that short in comparison to him? Why hadn't she noticed it before? The odd realization of just how big he was made her very nervous all of the sudden.

"We're at Blaise's personal villa on the shores of Lake Como in Italy," he explained, his free hand reaching up to gently brush some stray hair behind her ear.

It took great restraint not to reach up and touch his cheek, as her fingers itched to do just then. "Why his place? Why not one of yours?" She cleared her throat, feeling heat suffuse her cheeks the longer they stared at each other. "I'd have thought with all your family's money…"

"You know why."

Lowering her eyes to the buttons of his shirt, she nodded. She did know why – because she was his dirty, little secret and he couldn't have his parents knowing that he was cavorting with someone of her blood status. As she'd once jokingly thought to herself (back that night at _The Leaky Cauldron_), the Malfoy 'thoroughbred' was screwing a little, no-name mustang… only this time it was in more than just a passing fancy, and that was a big no-no in the books of his pureblooded family, she was sure.

Swallowing her tears, Hermione tried to remind herself that as of tomorrow, this would all be over. No more hurt, no more shame… no more love.

"Come on, let me show you around," he quietly murmured, maintaining a hold on her hand and pulling her after him.

Every room in the house was lavishly decorated with great care and style to reflect the unique beauty of the country's culture. The billiards room smelled faintly of sweet clove cigarettes and contained a standard, tournament-sized pool table, complete with trappings (if a person were so inclined to game). The formal sitting room had furniture from the Regency and Victorian eras (including a pianoforte in one corner), statues and artwork from the Renaissance, and a Medieval tapestry on one wall. There was an indoor pool as well as an outdoor pool, a study with a vast library, a warm, rustic kitchen (with two house elves busily cleaning; they bowed at the couple as they appeared, offering them service, then retreated to their duties when assured they were not needed at the moment), several guest bed and bathrooms, and a drawing room with a large, stone hearth for Floo-ing.

Outside was splendid; Zabini had not lied. It was a bit nippy, and on the horizon, the clouds were dark with a coming rain, but at the moment, the sun was shining and the lake surface was glittering diamond and sapphire. They stopped at the edging wall of the property overlooking the water and simply stared out over the uncomplicated beauty before them, taking it in silence. Inhaling deeply, Hermione noted that the air here smelled clean, and there lingered the light perfume of palm trees and late-blooming rhododendrons on the breeze.

Draco's arms came around her, holding her tenderly back into him again. "I love it here. The water calms me," he confessed, his voice muted so as to not disturb the relaxed atmosphere. "Did you know that Blaise's family would invite mine for a few days during the summer sometimes, and we'd stay here, boating, flying our brooms over the lake, picnicking? He inherited this place from his grandmother this last spring, so now it's his to do with as he wants – a little escape from the world, if he needs it. Lucky bastard."

"Truthfully, Draco, I know very little about you," she blurted, the thought having been in the back of her mind since their bath earlier. "I don't know your favorite color, or what books you like to read, or how you take your tea. I don't know who your first lover was, and I can't tell you the truth about knowing for certain whether you _actually_ like strawberries and champagne, or if that's just you putting on your 'romantic hat,' as you once told me. I don't even know your middle name." She swallowed the lump in her throat, tears prickling her eyes once more. "I know nothing about you, really."

An awkward silence fell over them again, broken when he bent his head and kissed her cheek. "Yes, you do, if you'll think on it. I'm Slytherin, so you know what colors I like. As for book reading, what was my favorite subject at school – the one I bested you at by barely a point? As for my tea preferences, you watched me drink some just an hour ago at brunch. What do you remember? My first lover - who did you catch me snogging in the Second Floor empty Charms classroom in Fifth Year, when you were a Prefect? _Do_ I like strawberries and champagne? What do you _really_ think? And yes, you know my middle name – it was called out at graduation." He kissed her again. "Now, tell me the answers."

Hermione closed her eyes and thought back on all he'd said, using memory recall and deductive reasoning to reveal all she did know of Draco Malfoy. "Green, silver and black are your favorite colors. Not just because you're Slytherin, though, but because they're on your family's crest. I remember seeing it painted on the side of your mother's magicked coach at graduation."

Soft, platinum hair brushed against her cheek as he nodded. "Yes. Go on."

Taking a deep breath, she disclosed the rest. "Potions. You beat me in Potions, and I remember seeing you in the library sometimes reading up on the subject. You take your tea without embellishment – plain black. Mandy Brocklehurst was your first. You had your hand up her skirt that night I caught you two, and now that I think on it, it seemed a rather practiced gesture. Yes, you like strawberries, because you hogged them that night, hardly letting me get a bite in. You tolerate champagne, because it's fun to drink, but it's not your favorite – you gave me the lion's share of the bottle, I remember. And your middle name is Abraxas."

He nuzzled her throat. "You see? You do know me." He began placing small kisses up and down the sensitive skin under her ear, to the break in her shoulder. "You also know that I'm rich, pureblood and spoiled. You know I like chocolates, because my mother used to make a big production of sending them to me throughout my school years by owl. You know I like your cat, because during our rounds together once, you were surprised to see me bend to pet him when he was out and about the castle. You know I like to dance. You know I love Quidditch, and have a healthy, competitive spirit."

She snorted. "Healthy? I'd call it obsessive almost."

Not denying it, Draco shrugged. "I know what I want, and I tend to go for it." He suckled on her flesh above her pulse, making it leap, causing things in her womb to turn over. "You know I want you more than any woman I've _ever_ known, and that none of them matter to me anymore. There's only you, Hermione."

His hand was suddenly on her cheek, applying pressure for her to turn to face him. Their eyes met, and Hermione's heart raced, reminding her again how very attracted she was to this wizard – dangerously so.

"You know you're the only woman I've ever loved," he whispered, his fingertips finding her mouth and tracing it lightly. "I'm so in love with you that you're all I see anymore, Granger. You've twisted me around, messed my plans up, and changed everything. It hurts being with you… but it hurts worse not to be." His fingers feathered her cheek; his thumb stroked her bottom lip. "You know I'll give you anything you ask, so long as it's in my power to do so."

Her chest caved with the pain of the truth. "You say that, but you won't give me what I _really_ want."

His forehead thumped down against hers softly and his eyes squeezed shut in despair. "I can't break the contract. You know that, too. You even know why. But, you know what I _can_ give you. I swear to you that I'll _never_ love Pansy. It'll only be a marriage in name only, for tradition's sake. My heart will only be yours, so why won't you let me love you?"

Hermione pulled out of his embrace and turned her face away, choking the sobs down. "Because I'm selfish enough to want to be the only woman in your life, and honest enough to want you to acknowledge me to the whole world as the one woman you _do_ love. I want you to have the courage to tell anyone who disparages us to go straight to Hell, just like I'd do to be with you." Despite her best attempts, her shoulders shook and her tears fell. "But you can't give that to me, can you? And what you _can_ give me will only be a part of yourself. The other part will always belong to Pansy and any children you have together. They'll _always_ take precedence, even over our own children. You'll hide me and our babies away in embarrassed silence because you'll never truly be able to accept us for being anything less than pureblood perfect. You'd be ashamed of us our whole lives - of your own children and the woman you claim to love." Her breath hitched and she shook her head to deny him again. "If you truly knew me at all, you'd know I couldn't accept any of that."

Nothing more was said between them for a long while, and only the sounds of her snuffling and the waves of the lake lapping against the breaking wall below where they stood interrupted the silence. After what seemed an eternity, Draco hesitantly took her hand and stood at her side, looking out over the water.

"Let's go back inside," he offered. "It's getting cooler out. A storm's coming in."

He offered her his handkerchief to clean-up, and she graciously thanked him for it as she patted around her eyes and then daintily blew her nose. Folding it up, she put it in her pocket and nodded. With an insistent tug, he walked them back into the house, heading for the bedroom they shared.

There wasn't any need for words. They both understood this was goodbye as he undressed her first, then himself, removing each piece slowly, revealing their bodies with slow purpose. His eyes and fingers touched every part of her, memorizing each curve, every crevice. Wanting to please him, she dropped to her knees of her own volition and offered him the last of her firsts, taking his beautiful, erect length between her lips and letting him teach her how to enjoy this act.

Licking his hot, steely flesh, tasting his salty-sweet flavor on her tongue, looking up shyly to spy him watching her intently, feeling his fingers caress her cheeks and run through her hair, he gently swayed into her mouth at a rhythm she could follow. Taking her fingers off his hip, he brought them below to show her how to gently handle his sack, taught her the spot on him that drove him wild just underneath, and then he was moaning, his breathing kicking up and the grip on her tightened a bit. When he finally released, he coaxed her to swallow his semen, to breathe through her nose, and she did, performing her first oral experience adequately, in her opinion.

The look on his face as he helped her back to her feet and held her close was of tender poignancy. Cupping her cheeks, he kissed her, letting his tongue sweep through her mouth, tasting the residual of himself at the same time. "I love you," he reiterated, his big body shuddering. "Thank you, baby."

After that, he spent the next hour seeing to her pleasure, bringing her twice with his mouth and hands before leisurely adoring her breasts, spending time touching her intimately. _Accio_-ing his wand again to his hand with ease, he pressed the wand to her belly and cast _Recondo_, and as an afterthought, he cast a spell on both of them that she didn't recognize. Instantly, however, her body tightened with desperate need.

"An Aphrodisiac Charm?" she asked, as he swooped in to begin ravenously eating at her mouth, apparently in the same state of arousal as she from the spell.

"Uh-huh," he nodded, already hard and poised at her entrance. With a quick jerk of his hips, he was in her, working through her swollen, saturated body. Another and he was buried to the hilt. They both gasped, and like panting animals, they banged each other about hard and fast and reckless.

"You like me fucking you?" he demanded as he lifted her legs onto his shoulders and went at her deep, relentless. "Say it."

Hermione nodded, swamped by the desire that screamed along her every cell. The craving was undeniable, coupling with her natural need for him, burning her hot and utterly out of control. "Yes, _yes!_" she all but screamed as he pumped into her with strong, quick strokes. "Take me! Fuck me hard!"

He gave her everything she asked for and then some. They switched positions several times, and he taught her every lesson he knew, coming into her again and again – from behind, underneath her writhing form, looming over her, spooning. He took her in every way, once more laying his claim upon her body and heart – her very soul. She begged and pleaded with him not to stop, and he gave until she swore his heart should burst from the effort. They kissed and sucked and bit and scratched and rode each other urgently, frantically for hours.

Somewhere in the house, a clock rang out four times, and the storm fiercely rolled over the villa a moment or two later, the rain slanting against the windows with loud splattering that lulled the senses.

As the Aphrodisiac Charm very slowly began to wear off, Hermione lay bruised and sore upon the guest bed, her arms folded under her head, her tummy pressed to the coverlet, her legs spread wantonly open, utterly limp. Yet, despite her level of tiredness, her body continued to be caught in the frenzy of pleasure from the enchantment laid upon it, so when Draco moved to take her again – this time, in that 'forbidden' spot he'd entered this morning, parting her cheeks and joining them, while he leaned over her on his palms and whispered naughty things in her ear – she made no protest. Very soon, to her surprise, his words combined with the skilled, methodical drive of his body to get her juices flowing again, and in no time, she was moaning right along with him.

"Say you're mine," he finally required of her, asserting his domination, no longer asking for her capitulation, but taking what he wanted, as he was used to doing. "I'm _not_ letting you go, so say it! Tell me you'll stay with me."

She shook her head, reaching for her dogged resolution not to give in to this, reminding herself again that she would not be any man's shadowy mistress. "No, no… you promised that today would be goodbye."

He kissed her cheek and spoke very assuredly in her ear. "I said no such thing, baby." Thrusting into her in just the right way, he brought her to the edge again, and immediately backed off, slowing down. "I have no intention of walking away from this."

"Stop this, Draco," she demanded, turning her head and looking him in the eye. "No more. I can't take anymore!"

He never stopped his thrusting, staring at her with earnest consideration. "Say you'll be mine."

"Don't marry her and I will," she countered angrily.

His face was tightly controlled as he continued to relentlessly surge into her. "Come for me." Sitting back on his haunches, he hauled her up, grabbing her hips and pounded into her at the perfect angle. "Come on, Granger… let go."

She fought it, she really did, but a final pulse of the Aphrodisiac Charm became a thundering magic through her veins, and his strokes were perfectly timed, with just the right pressure. "Gods, _I hate you, Malfoy!_" she wailed as she orgasmed again, her hands clenched into the blanket under them, despising herself at the same moment for wanting so desperately to just say, "yes" to his proposition instead.

"That's it, baby," he cajoled, never letting up, riding out her climax. "Feels so good what I can do to you, doesn't it?" His grip on her waist tightened. "You do it to me, too." With a final shove, he released into her with a hoarse shout.

The effects of the time-delayed passion spell finally wore off, and Draco pulled out of her, _Scourgify_-ing himself with a wave of his wand and tossing the rod aside again to spoon behind her. Sweaty and tired, her limbs shaking as uncontrollably as her heart, Hermione merely lay compliant in his arms as he held her tightly against him.

"I hate you," she whispered, feeling the tears drip down over her nose, onto the blanket. "I hate you for not loving me enough."

He sighed and kissed her neck, and there were tears in his voice, too. "I'm sorry."

X~~~~~X

_**(same location, that same evening)**_

Having drifted off to sleep after their amazing marathon, Hermione awoke at some unknown time to the sound of Draco lightly snoring. Clearly, he was down for the count. Shifting very carefully, she managed to disentangle herself from him, and got off the bed quickly, all without waking him.

Finding his wand on the floor, she used it to clean herself up and redressed. Conjuring parchment, ink and a quill next, she left him a note.

_**Draco ~**_

_**I will love you all of my life. **_

_**I will never forget a single moment we've shared.**_

_**You own all of my adult firsts – every single one of them… including this one… **_

_**Goodbye.**_

_**~ Hermione**_

When she was finished writing, she folded the paper and left it on the bed. With a long, last look at him – he was so beautiful, sprawled as he was in the bed like some sort of mythological god in slumber – she quietly left the room, taking his wand with her.

She found Blaise and Ginny in the billiards room, racking up a new game, and broken-heartedly told them that she was going home now. Zabini put his pool stick down and stared at her in silence for long moments.

"He doesn't know you're leaving him."

It was a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway.

"He knew today was goodbye," she choked on her tears. "It's better this way for both of us." Sniffing and wiping her face, she swallowed her agony. "Thank you for trying, and offering your beautiful home to try to give us a place to be alone. It was magical here. It's just… some things weren't meant to be."

Zabini crossed his arms. "You don't sound very convinced of that."

Trying for a polite smile, she faced him. "It doesn't matter whether I am or not. This is our reality: he's going to marry Pansy. I love him, but I won't be his mistress. There's no room for compromise there." Grasping the edge of the beautifully stained, mahogany table, she took a deep breath and let it out slow to calm her nerves. "It's time for us both to let go."

Blaise swore under his breath. "I'll tell you the truth, Granger: I've never seen Drake like this and I've known him my whole life. He's _desperately_ in love with you, and he's not going to let you go so easily."

Staring at the loose balls on the table, she noted three bunched together. She picked up the solid, dark red one – the number seven – and turned it around and around, then put it back down on the soft, green felt. "He will, when I'm done." With that, she knocked the solid, dark green ball in the bunch – the number six – away. The crimson-colored number seven ball rolled to a stop right next to the unlucky solid black – the number eight ball – and she nodded, the metaphor a good one for what she planned.

Looking up at Blaise Zabini, new resolve in her heart, she thanked him again, told him that she would owl back Draco's wand in the morning to his home, grabbed a hold of Ginny's hand and Apparated them back to her flat in England without another word.

Upon arriving, she took several moments to change the wards around her home to assure no one could come in or out, and she shut off the Floo. Then, she crumpled onto the sofa and cried harder than she ever had, cradling her lover's wand against her cheek, staining the smooth Hawthorn wood with her tears.

**X~~~~~X**

_**Hermione's Flat - Mornington Terrace, Camden NW1, London, England**_

_**Ministry of Magic – London, England**_

**Monday, October 5th, 1998 (morning)**

Having to take a Dreamless Sleep Draught to get through the night, Hermione awoke physically refreshed. Emotionally, she was deadened, though, and everything she looked at was shaded in a strange, grayish hue, making it as dull and lifeless as she felt inside.

Forcing herself to her feet, she woke Ginny with a gentle shake, and shut off her buzzing wand – which she'd found right where she'd left it two evenings ago and set as an alarm the night before when slipping into bed. She picked out her clothing for the day from her dresser and closet, and hopped into the shower. Ginny went in after her, her friend finding some clothes in the overnight bag she'd packed on Saturday (before the whole kidnapping thing), and then the two of them decided upon French Braiding each other's hair, and took turns doing so. When that was done, they realized there was no time for breakfast, and would have to catch it on their own time.

Hugging her friend goodbye, Hermione lowered the wards so Ginny could Apparate out back to the gates of Hogwarts. Collecting her work valise and Draco's wand, she Apparated away from her flat to the Ministry's proper entry point – a public women's loo downtown - strengthening the locking charm on her door just before she left so she wouldn't have any surprises upon her return that evening.

When she got to work, her co-worker, Jen, was already there, apple-cinnamon muffin and coffee (just the way she liked it) in hand. "Bless you," Hermione thanked her profusely. "Could you be a dear and do something else for me? I'll cover for you."

Jen nodded in easy agreement. "Sure. What's up?"

Hermione extracted Draco's wand from her satchel, and finding an empty box in the office, she packaged it up and marked it with his name, including the notation, "Malfoy Manor, England" on the label. "Could you take this to _Lost and Found_, and have them owl it to the address on the front, please?"

"Found a wand, did you? Who's it belong to?" her friend asked, curiously checking the name on the box. "Draco Malfoy - who's that?"

Hermione sat at her desk, looking down at the warm, spiced mini-cake in front of her, her memory jogged for a nostalgic moment: _"Do you like your apple-cinnamon muffins with tea or coffee?"_

She sniffed and took another sip of her morning beverage, wishing it were a cappuccino, but satisfied instead that it was just a caffeinated drink that was hot. It wasn't what she wanted, true, but it would get her through the day.

"He's just a guy I knew back in school."

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_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

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**AUTHOR'S EXTENDED NOTES:**

**SONG THAT REFLECTS THIS CHAPTER SPECIFICALLY: ****"Starts With Goodbye" by Carrie Underwood.**


	4. Chapter 4: Decisions, Decisions

_**CHAPTER FOUR: **__**Decisions, Decisions**_

_**Malfoy Manor – Wiltshire, England**_

**Monday, October 5th, 1998 (late morning)**

The storm that had raged in Italy seemed to follow him all the way back to England when Blaise brought him home via Side-Along Apparition. His carefully reserved friend offered few words, except to tell him Granger's explanation for leaving and her promise to owl his wand back to him today. Draco had thanked his wizarding brother for everything, walked through the Manor gates and into the house without looking back, uncaring that he was soaking wet by that time, squelching water all over the floor in his hurry up the stairs, through the Drawing Room, down the hall, and up another flight of stairs to his room. He'd fled to the sanctuary of his private apartments as if the Hounds of Hell were hot on his heels.

That had been an hour and half a bottle of Firewhiskey ago. Now, his parents were outside his bedroom door, knocking, asking him about his status.

Slouching across his sofa, heavily sauced, his clothes and hair equally bedraggled, sporting a light five o'clock shadow that annoyingly tickled his jaw, he ignored their pleas, staring blankly into the cold, dark hearth before him instead. He felt empty inside and out, as if a piece of him had gone missing and he hadn't the slightest clue where to find it.

Only he did. He knew exactly where to locate this particular quantity: she'd be at her desk at the Ministry right now, probably picking away at her apple-cinnamon muffin, while her morning coffee – dashed with cream and sweet - would have already been consumed in its entirety by then. She'd probably be looking forward to lunch in another hour or so with Scarhead and the Weasel King; she always had lunch with them on Mondays. She'd probably be wearing a pretty pencil skirt with short heels, and a nice blouse – some shade of blue, because it was her favorite color and it calmed her – along with her robes. Would her hair be up or down? He couldn't decide, as it depended upon her mood, and right then, he was unsure as to how exactly she'd be feeling…

"Draco, please open this door," his mother cajoled. "You know your father and I don't want to intrude upon your privacy, but we're worried."

He barked a mad, very riotous, extremely rude laugh. They didn't like to intrude upon his privacy _since when?_

His father cast _Alohamora_ and unlocked his door. They entered, took a few steps forward, and bang on time, the expected scandalized gasp from his mother (as she took in his disheveled appearance, coming around the front of the couch fully) rang out loud and true in the high-ceilinged room. "Draco Abraxas Malfoy, what on the stars are you thinking drinking that poison at this time of the day? And where did you secret off to on Saturday that would cause you to return in _this_ state in such a short amount of time?"

Sipping from his half-empty glass, he thought up the best manner to confront Hermione again once his wand was returned to him. Cornering her at her flat hadn't worked too well that one time…

"I am assuming this has to do with the conversation we had the other morning when you came home so late, son?" his father asked nonchalantly, but he didn't fool Draco, who knew his father's verbal cues all too well by now. "Your new… lady friend?"

His mother tsk'd. "I didn't want to believe it, but Draco, tell me you aren't stepping out on that nice Parkinson girl?"

Downing the last of his alcohol, he stared at the rim of his glass, turning first in a clockwise motion, then in a counterclockwise motion, watching the way the light refracted into a very narrow beam of light that cascaded into the prism of the rainbow against his charcoal-colored slacks.

"She's a Mudblood," he smirked bitterly, glancing up at his parents. "And I'm in love with her."

With some little bit of sadistic glee, he watched their faces transform before his eyes; their normally-pale skin turned positively ghost-like in pallor, followed rather quickly by a blooming cherry of anger in their cheeks as their individual blood pressures shot through the roof, his father's more so than his mother's. That steely glint entered the elder male Malfoy's eye, though, and the man straightened his shoulders, going rigid, puffing out with that imperial derision that Lucius had spent years perfecting. "We have been more than lenient and patient in turning a blind eye to your more… intimate proclivities… over the years, Draco, but this… _this_ will _not_ be tolerated." His grip upon his serpent cane was white-knuckled. "You will divorce yourself from this other woman immediately so as to avoid a scandal. Put her out of your mind. You are marrying Miss Parkinson, and that is final. It is all arranged."

"Ar-ranged."

The slightly slurred word hung between the three of them like rotten fruit on the vine.

Standing on slightly unsteady, long legs, Draco unleashed part of his fury, throwing his glass as hard as he could against the wall, watching the second of the set of precious, one-of-a-kind crystal goblets meet the same fate as its previous sibling. "Not by _me_," he seethed, watching with some sick satisfaction as his mother's eyes widened and she leaned away from him in a combination of shocked horror and slight fear of his barely-leashed violence.

His father was undaunted by the outburst; he simply sneered in disgust and spoke as calmly as ever. "Of course not. It was done _for_ you."

Draco shook his head fiercely. "No, _not_ for me either. _FOR YOU!_" He waved his hand about the room. "For all of _this!_" He spat with distaste. "You've doomed me to a loveless match with a witch I can barely stand to touch, father." He pointed at the man to emphasize the real target of his anger. "I'll never want Pansy that way – _never_. I can barely stand the thought of calling her my fiancée, much less my wife. What do you think she's going to do when she figures that out, hmm? What kind of marriage will we have then? A typical pureblood match, with fake smiles, barely tolerated conversations, and roses and jewelry given in apology? Oh, yes, that's _definitely _something I'm looking forward to for the next fifty _fucking_ years of my life!"

"Do not use such common language in my presence, Draco," his mother automatically reprimanded, although her voice was seriously weakened in its typical commanding strength before the unexpectedness of his never-before-loosed vehemence and the venomous words he spoke.

Draco ran a hand through his long bangs, pulling them back with a shaky hand and huffed loudly in acrid resentment. "Yeah, right, profanity isn't proper." He tsked, not giving a bloody damn. "Pansy's not the worst of what I have to look forward to, you know. Can you guess what's really going to suck the life from me, father?" He smirked cruelly as he looked into the darkened corner of the room, his thoughts and sight turned inward. "The fact that I'll forever resent the children that I'll have with Pansy because they won't be _hers_, the woman I _really_ want. My heir will not be deeply loved nor wanted as he should be - and he'll grow up knowing it, because you can't hide something that fundamentally true, no matter how good a liar you are." He turned a pointed gaze directly on his father then. "Your children _always_ know how you feel about them."

He stared hard at the man he'd once worshipped, an understanding of his words passing between them instantly, and practically sobbed at the truth: he would someday have a son who would hate him as much as he hated Lucius right at that moment. The thought was nearly enough to destroy what little hope he still harbored deep inside.

Clutching his hand over his heart, he wished it were possible to rip his feelings out of his chest and throw them away forever. "This marriage will destroy _everyone's_ happiness," he predicted with sullen hostility, "and for what? For propriety and status and a few million galleons."

"All _your_ wealth, someday," his father icily reminded him. "And not just counted in coin, son. To you passes a millennia of tradition and custom - a heritage to be proud of for its purity and strength!"

Draco scoffed, and his father's tone became hard, unbendable.

"There is absolutely nothing for it now, Draco, so you can stop all this senseless, pitiable whinging," Lucius castigated him mercilessly. "The pre-arranged marriage contract is legal and magically binding. You signed it by your own hand, sealing it upon your powers as a wizard, as required." The man looked positively smug about that fact, knowing that he was going to get his way once again. "Back out before you say 'I do' on the prescribed date in May and you will be… severely diminished. Perhaps even become a Squib – which is, of course, unthinkable. And since divorce is out of the question after-the-fact, as the contract is specific on that stipulation as well, you will be marrying Miss Parkinson for life. There is no choice left to you." The man was almost gloating.

Draco tore at his hair in anguish. "Don't you think I know that?" He choked back his frustrated rage. "Gods, _I fucking know it!_ I know it so much it's killing me!" Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes he tried to will away the drunken tears that burned the back of his lids. "Get out. Just... leave, both of you. Before I say something I'll regret."

He turned his back on them, heard their footfalls on the carpet all the way to the door, knew when it was his mother who paused, as if she would say more, but then there was a click and the portal closed and they were gone.

Alone at last, he succumbed to his despair, falling to his knees and raging with the wrongness of the universe by slamming his palms hard on the floor several times. The weight of such a heavy decision was almost unbearable upon his shoulders. "Fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_" he screamed in anguish.

The choice was simple: either give up most, if not _all_ of his magical essence (all that made him who he was fundamentally as a man), his family honor and a thousand years of tradition, his reputation, _Pansy's_ reputation (for she would be harmed socially by his rejection and might find it difficult-to-impossible to find another suitor as a result), his and his future children's inheritance, his parents' love and respect… or Hermione, a woman who may love him now, but could provide no guarantees as to her feelings a month from now, much less a year or more, as she had proven inconsistent and somewhat fickle when it came to relationships (for Salazar's sake, she'd gone to shag Potter and ended up with _him_ instead that first night!). If he gave up everything for her, and she walked away later, it would destroy him utterly.

If only he could be sure of her…

Why wouldn't she give him the chance to see if they could even make it work? If he could trust her not to throw him away, he'd know what to do. He could make a proper decision then. But she wouldn't give them even that much. He'd planned to court her this whole week in Italy, to let them get to know each other outside of bed, but she hadn't wanted any of that, either. She wouldn't even try with him, her stubborn decision settled in her mind.

The fuck of it was his obsession wasn't abated by her rejection. Draco still wanted her. He still wanted to try.

His tears fell as forceful as the autumn rain outside his window, and he once again cursed himself for being bullied into signing that godforsaken, condemning contract.

**X~~~~~X**

_**Malfoy Manor – Wiltshire, England**_

**Monday, October 5th, 1998 (evening)**

The Ministry owl arrived with the package containing his wand by five o'clock (despite being stamped as arriving into the _Lost and Found_ area at ten minutes past ten this morning; he figured, however, that the time delay of six hours and fifty minutes for the owl to have been sent out from London and to reach him near Swindon – about eighty miles, or thereabouts - was most likely standard for a bunch of over-bloated bureaucrats). There was no note in the box, but the wand was packaged well for delivery.

Touching the wood of his wand, he knew instantaneously that she'd cried holding it. Wands always carried a residual energy of the last person to use them, and in his, the echo of deep, abiding sorrow gripped his heart the moment he laid his fingertips upon it.

Pressing the wand to his cheek, he let out a ragged sigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her, wishing his voice could reach her across the miles separating them. "So _fucking_ sorry, baby."

Theodore Nott came to see him half an hour later, unannounced and appearing by Floo from his family's Manor House in Bedfordshire. Draco knew Blaise had sent him (and informed him of all he knew, no doubt), as Theo had a way of calming him like no one else in the world could. Where Zabini was good for rabble-rousing and all-around mischief, Nott was a voice of analytical reason.

"Would you like me to take a look at this contract?" the tall, dark-haired wizard offered, adjusting his glasses upon the bridge of his nose serenely. "I may only be an apprentice solicitor with the Wizengamot, but I could do some research to see if there may be a way to break the contract without penalty - some ancient, not well-remembered clause somewhere on the books, that sort of thing."

With an absent wave of his wand and a summons, the contract appeared in the air between them. "Here's a copy," Draco informed him, slurping rather undignified from a coffee cup, trying to sober up. He'd spent all afternoon drinking and scheming, and now had a new idea as to how to deal with Granger. "I'm sure my father's and Mr. Parkinson's solicitors were thorough, but be my guest. I'll take any help at this point."

Theo tucked the parchment away in his robe's inside pocket carefully. "Why don't you get your Girl Wonder to look, too? I remember her penchant for all things research in school. As a law librarian, certainly she has access to materials that the general public may not, too. With both of us looking, we might be able to come up with something."

Draco's full attention turned sharply on his best friend. "That's… bloody brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?"

Sipping his tea with proper decorum (Theo always did everything with perfect gentlemanly mannerisms) his best friend smirked rather serpent-like at him – all tight-lipped and flat-eyed. "Because I'm the logical one with my head firmly on my shoulders and not up my arse, remember?"

He dodged the couch pillow Draco threw at him by simply swaying that weedy frame to the side.

"Mature," Theo commented, taking another drag off his cup. He placed it upon its saucer, carefully setting it down on the side table, and stood all six-foot, three-inches of himself up, making to leave. "If you need to go out for a roaring, drunken time, remember: don't call me – call Blaise. It's what he's best at." It was a running joke between him and his four best friends over the years that Blaise was the party animal, Draco was the lady killer, Greg was the muscle, and Nott was the curmudgeon. "I'll owl you with what I find," he promised. He headed for the door, but Draco was so caught up in his own internal thoughts that he rudely didn't move to show his guest out. "No, please, don't get up on my account. I can see myself to the Floo perfectly fine," Theo dryly snarked.

Flipping his friend the two-fingered salute, he got up and showed Nott to the Floo, then turned right about to head back to his room. Along the way, he ran into his mother, who was waiting for it in the hall to his private rooms.

"Draco, can we please talk?" she asked, and he almost walked by her without a word, but found himself unable to do so, his heart softening for her in a way it never could for Lucius.

He nodded, and she directed him to follow her to her private wing into her favorite parlor where she often entertained Andromeda in secret, away from Lucius' ken. Summoning the house elf, she ordered tea for two and some sandwiches, knowing Draco hadn't joined them for lunch or dinner, assuming he was hungry.

"Thank you," he politely accepted the offer of food and drink, sipping genteel from the china as was proper. He may be socially relaxed around his friends, but never with his mother and father – until this morning, that was to say.

The awkward silence between them stretched a good fifteen minutes before Narcissa finally broke the ice. "Tell me about her."

Instantly, Draco guard went up. "Why? She's a Mudblood. What could you possibly care?"

Putting her cup back onto her saucer rather severely, she looked at him with a piercing blue gaze. "You claim to love her?"

Warily, he nodded.

"Then I would understand how such a thing has come to pass," his mother resolutely decided.

Putting his drink down and finishing chewing the cucumber-watercress tea sandwich he was chewing on, he swallowed then dabbed his lips before talking. "Father doesn't know you're talking to me about this, does he?" he asked, assessing her mood and posture and assuming Lucius had no idea. "You're the one who's curious this time."

His mother confirmed his suspicions with a small nod.

He clenched his jaw, tamping down on the simmering anger that stirred through his veins as he thought again of the hopeless situation. "Shall I be crass and tell you it happened one night back at the end of July – the night before I signed the pre-nuptial arrangements that sealed the end of my bachelorhood? That a witch I'd known from my school days, who I'd secretly fancied more than a little bit since Third Year, suddenly appeared before me again looking entirely too tempting that night for a reasonable man to maintain his sanity? That I pursued her heavily that night, but didn't intend upon anything more than a one-off with her… I know, it shocks your sensibilities to hear that I could be so ruthless, right?… but that somehow, I'd looked at her that next morning, after taking her innocence, and realized I didn't _want_ to leave her? That I desperately wanted to throw my entire future away just to spend one more hour with her? That I've been trying to win her affections since, but she won't allow me now that she knows about Pansy and refuses to play the role of second-string mistress? That this entire situation has me contemplating slitting my wrists because I'm tired of agonizing over the choices before me?" He looked at his mother quite evenly, the most sincere he'd ever been with her. "Is that crude enough, or shall I get descriptive of our bedroom activities for you as well?"

His mother's stare seemed to burn right into his soul and rip out his secret self.

"It's that Granger chit, isn't it?"

His jaw dropped in surprise; he couldn't even fake a smooth recovery he'd been so taken off-kilter. "How…?"

Waving a single hand as if swatting a fly, she sighed and picked her tea back up. "I have somewhat kept abreast of your _activities_ over the years, Draco, as any good mother would be expected to do, and know you've had ample opportunity to saddle your affections upon any number of attractive, if not foolish, young ladies. You may be shallow and vain, my son, but you are not one to be attracted to a simpleton, no matter her beauty or breeding. Only a woman of intelligence could hold your attention for long… and you _were_ rather fixated on your tenacious academic rivalry with the young Miss Granger throughout your Hogwarts career." Coyly, she sipped from her cup, glancing at him over the rim. "In fact, as I consider it now, at your graduation ceremony this past June, I recall she was a rather well-spoken, insightful, lovely, smartly-dressed and graceful young lady as she gave her Valedictorian speech. You couldn't take your eyes off of her."

For the first time in years, Draco actually blushed at something his mother said, and it hadn't even been all that provocative a statement! It had been extremely telling, however; not only of the woman's keen perceptiveness (he'd _definitely_ underestimated her), but also of his how his behavior had appeared to an outsider. _He'd_ known that he'd had an odd fascination-slash-attraction for Granger ever since she'd smacked him good across the cheek when he was thirteen. Those feelings were responsible for compelling him to follow her down to Potter's party that night they'd gotten together, pretending to be there for the free booze, when really, he'd been watching her again (he'd rather smoothly lied so he could maneuver her into a dance). And said emotions hadn't just cropped-up this last summer from nothing; they'd been there under the surface, lingering, hidden under the lie he'd constantly told himself through all the years that his pull towards her was just typical teenaged hormones and the fact that she was 'untouchable' because of her blood status and unfortunate friendships. The appeal to constantly harass her, he'd convinced himself, had been simply because she'd been an anomaly he couldn't a resolve within the scope of his father's belief system: that was, she was a Muggleborn witch of _power_ and _intelligence_ – two traits he'd been raised to believe were absolutely not present in individuals of such a lowly heritage (ironically enough, they were his two most incredibly attractive qualities in a woman).

That his mother had figured him out made him wonder now just how transparent he'd been in regards to his _real_ opinion of Granger. Neither Blaise nor Theo had been disturbed by the thought of him pursuing Hermione, either. Had he been so obvious? How many others might suspect? Did his father?

"Will you tell him?" he pretended calm, trying to ease his suddenly racing heart. It was clear who the 'him' was in reference to.

His mother was silent for a while, keeping him purposefully in suspense. He assumed it was her way of punishing him, as it was clear that she didn't heartily approve of his choice either, but his mother was never one to openly chastise him, as his father would. Her way was more passive-aggressive – making him sweat, as he was now.

"No," she finally agreed. "Although I suspect he already knows, which is why he is so furious with you at the moment. The girl is a very close friend to Mister Potter and the Weasleys, and your father… well, you know how he feels about _them_." She put her china down carefully upon the small, separating table. "Draco, your father is a very sharp and shrewd character - cunning and ruthless." Her eyes met his with great severity. "Never underestimate his willingness to do whatever it takes to protect our name and our family values."

His hands shaking, he stood up, suddenly enraged by the imaginings her warning conjured. "If he so much as causes Hermione _any_ discomfort…" The blackest fury gripped him, and his emotions spilled over in a way he hadn't experienced since he'd been six and nearly brought the roof down in a tantrum. His magic poured off of him in waves, causing the room to become suddenly, very uncomfortably hot, and two of the decorative glass candle lamps sitting on a nearby table to burst, and the china tea set to fracture, spilling chamomile onto the floor.

His mother's eyes widened and she looked upon him then as if she'd never seen him before; fear was clearly stamped across her features, despite her maintaining some composure and keeping her seat. Noting her terror was enough to calm Draco's undisciplined temper and the temperature about them cooled immediately. Regaining control of himself after several deep breaths, and with a wave of his wand, he assured the broken items were repaired and righted, and the tea cleaned up so no stain or damp spot remained.

"I apologize," he contritely offered, ashamed at his lack of restraint and unable to meet her eye. "I didn't mean to frighten you, mother. Please forgive me."

On the tailspin of that, he felt hateful tears prickle his eyes and pressed two fingers over his closed lids to prevent an embarrassing display of emotion. "Please, just… make sure he doesn't harm her, mother. He can do what he likes with me, but _never _is he to hurt Hermione. I love her. I think I have since I was thirteen. I know I always will… even if she decides not to want me back."

With that, he stumbled from his mother's sitting room, back down the hall to his room and magically sealed the door shut. He made his way over to his dwindling supply of Firewhiskey, and proceeded to spend the rest of the night finishing it off.

**X~~~~~X**

_**The Ministry of Magic – London, England**_

**Wednesday, October 7th, 1998 (afternoon)**

After nearly two days of drunken debauchery, Draco woke up that morning remembering Nott's words, and the veil of his despair parted, bringing with it some small hope. Perhaps there was a chance, after all? As he'd told his best friend: at this point, he'd grab at any opportunity, no matter how remote.

Having taken a potion to help alleviate his awful hangover, showering, shaving, and dressing smartly, Draco Floo'd to the Ministry, his destination and a plan firmly in mind, his self-pity and anger put aside for now.

He arrived at _her_ office precisely at noon, when he knew she would leave for lunch. To his surprise, she was still in, her head down over a stack of papers as she worked diligently.

Gods, she was beautiful, dressed in a burnt orange silken blouse with sleeves daintily tapering at her wrists. He couldn't see whether she was wearing a skirt or slacks, but he was betting on the former. Her hair had been left down, but the curls were tamed, sleekly falling over one shoulder. He had a flash memory of sliding his fingers through that soft hair, of gripping it hard in his fist as he thrust away into her…

Leaning non-threateningly against her doorway, he gently got her attention.

"Hey."

Looking up quick, he noted the dark circles under her eyes. Was she having trouble sleeping, too?

She said nothing, simply stared at him as a doe in wand light – wary, unsure as to which way to go to escape.

"Can we talk?"

Her anxiety was palpable even across the room, nearly suffocating as the seconds ticked by and she did not reply. Finally, reluctantly, she nodded.

Draco let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding, and he entered her office, closing the door carefully behind him, waving his wand over it to give them complete privacy – _Muffliato_, _Abolocus_, the works. He took a wooden chair from nearby and situated it in front of her desk, sitting in it backwards, his arms crossed over the back.

"Thank you for my wand," he began. He held it up between them to show he'd received it safely.

Hermione nodded, still not having said a word. She'd put her quill down though. That was a good first step as it meant she was going to hear him out.

"I'll cut to the chase: I need you to understand what's going on with this contract between Pansy and I."

She shook her head. "I don't need to understand. It's none of my business."

"It is," he insisted. "Because I want you to help me find a way out of it so we can be together."

Her eyes widened and she began visibly shaking. With just those words, the strong woman he'd always known – the fearless girl he'd come to love – morphed into a fragile doll in the blink of an eye. Tears splashed within red-rimmed eyes, rolled off her long, sooty lashes and down her cheeks to drip heedlessly upon her paperwork. Clasping her hands over her mouth, she stared at him with cautious yearning.

"Theodore Nott – you remember he was one of my best friends and a Prefect with us this last year - well he's an apprenticed solicitor for the Wizengamot now," he informed her, forcing himself to stay in his chair and not move, no matter how much he wanted to jump up and take her into his arms. He was waiting to hear her decision before leaping off the proverbial cliff this time. "He's going to look, too, but I thought, with your love of all things library, that you might be willing to look with me. There might be a way to break the contract. Some obscure old law still on the books or something."

His heart was pounding now as the light of hope entered her eyes, and he thought that maybe, _just maybe_ he'd hedged his bets right this time and could trust her not to hurt him. Maybe they could make this work, despite the whole world being dead-set against them.

"Will you look with me, Hermione?" he asked softly, his heart in his throat. "Will you _try_ with me?"

She nodded and began brokenly sobbing. "Draco… oh, Gods, _yes!_"

Unable to contain his need for her any longer, leaping to his feet he crossed the short distance around her desk and pulled her to her feet, holding her close, feeling all of the fears he'd harbored melt away as her scent pervaded his senses again, as her arms about his neck pulled him close, and as her lips sought his with hungry desperation – at _her_ urging this time.

"I love you," he whispered between pulls of their lips, his insides shaking with the intensity of his feelings for this witch. Never had he known such reckless desire and anxiety. Hermione Granger brought him to his knees with wanting her.

She let him take the lead as he pulled her onto her desk and reached between them to push her dark brown pencil skirt up and take her satiny black knickers down. Her blouse was yanked over her head un-gently, and her matching bra practically ripped from her torso and arms, tossed to the floor heedlessly. He groaned at the sight of her luscious tits as they came into view, so ripe and willing for his touch.

Kicking her heels off, pulling his shirt over his head, she undid his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped him with fast, trembling fingers, even as he cupped and caressed her beautiful breasts. Her nimble fingers released him from his confines and he was harder than he could ever remember being, aching to the touch, throbbing to be inside her. Fingering between her legs, he found her more than ready for him - all moist, sticky heat. He pulled her to the edge of her desk and aligned himself with her entry, his engorged crown parting her folds with familiar ease from below. Gripping her hips tight, they were face-to-face, her arms about his neck, pulling him close, and he looked into her eyes as he slowly penetrated her an inch at a time. "Tell me you love me," he pleaded, needing to hear her say the words.

Granger pressed her forehead to his, stared into his soul. "I love you, Draco."

"Enough to marry me?" he required, nearly fully buried inside her velvety soft, saturated core.

She nodded. "We find a way to break the contract first, and then I'll follow you anywhere you want after that. I want to be with you always, Draco. Just promise to fight for me, with me - for _this._"

In that second, he made his decision to accept the consequences of loving her, no matter what they required of him, and for the first time in his life, Draco allowed his heart to give everything to another person, dropping all barriers, making him totally vulnerable. "Baby, no matter what it takes, I won't give you up again," he promised softly, and with a decisive thrust, he was buried to the hilt in her. Fumbling for the wand he'd dropped on the desk beside her, he pressed it to her abdomen and spoke the _Recondo_ charm to prevent pregnancy, then he laid it aside, pulled her into his lap and sat in her chair as they made love.

They took their time, uncaring that she was at work, that at any moment a co-worker or her supervisor could undo the magic he'd cast upon the office door and walk in, catching them in _flagrante_. They only had eyes and thoughts for each other, selfishly indifferent to the rest of the world for those fleeting moments. She rode his cock with sensual wildness, gripping the back of her chair with one arm, scoring his shoulder with the fingernails from the other, her beautiful breasts swaying up and down with each surging thrust. They kissed and lapped at each other's mouths, and he lathed and suckled upon her nipples, each in turn. Throwing back her head, she bit her lip and lustily moaned.

"Hermione, I'm close," he warned her when it was time, feeling the molten lava within building to a fast crescendo as she increased the pressure on her downward strokes over him.

"Come," she pleaded in a low, husky voice that had things in his guts roil around. "Come in me, Draco! Come deep!"

Arching hard and rubbing her clit against him at the same moment as coming down upon his length one last time, she grabbed the back of the chair with both hands and cried out with her release. Her pussy clenched around him tightly, the muscles inside rippling across his flesh, pulling him up into her until the tip of him nudged the entrance to her womb. Unable to stave off his release as the brush of ultra-soft flesh tickled his cock head and by the way her undulating, silken body held him, he exploded inside of her with a guttural cry of her name. His seed shot out of him in series of fiery spurts that made his head dizzy and his heart soar.

His hold on her hips kept her in place as she wrapped her arms about his neck, bowed her face into the curve of his shoulder and neck and began crying with relief.

He knew exactly how that felt.

**X~~~~~X**

_**Hermione's Flat - Mornington Terrace, Camden NW1, London, England**_

**Wednesday, October 7th, 1998 (mid-afternoon)**

Hermione left work early with Draco's hand in hers all the way through the Ministry as they rushed to the Apparition Point together. They arrived outside her flat, in the alley between buildings, one after the other, and hurried up to her room. Once there, they made love again – this time, properly in her bed. Draco spent all the rest of that day and night making up for all of the pain he'd caused her, and he serviced her quite thoroughly.

As they both lay sweaty and sated in each other's arms much later, snuggled under the blankets, he could feel a bit of tension creep back in between them.

"So, what happens now?" she asked, spooning against him very similarly to the night they'd first made love.

He entwined their fingers and kissed her shoulder. "We can either do as I'd originally planned and take the rest of the week to enjoy Italy. You allow me to woo and shag you like mad all over Zabini's villa, and we can work out a plan of action in between the incredible sex. Or…" Here he was a little less enthusiastic about the second option, but he understood that his initial fantasy opportunity might be out of the question at the last moment such as this, given her work schedule. "You can go to work the rest of the week as usual, and I'll labor over a plan in the meantime at home, owling Nott on his thoughts. Then, we'll meet up on Friday night and spend the weekend shagging, and by next week, we get started."

Hermione nodded, but she swallowed, and he knew what her next question would be. The thought had been lingering in the back of his mind as well. "What if there is no 'out'?"

"There's an 'out'," he sighed and explained the situation fully to her, bluntly leaving out no details.

Turning in his arms, she faced him, her eyes wide with incredulity. "You'd actually do that for me? Lose some of your power – if not all of it?"

He touched her cheek tenderly, looking into her eyes with all sincerity. "Baby, truthfully, I'm scared of that, but I know now that I can't give you up. The thought of it rips something out of me. I'd rather do something like _that_ then be without you. Just…" He faltered here, shut his eyes, and felt that sinking pit in his stomach grow wider, blacker. "If there's no other way, and I have to breech the contract with Pansy… I know it's something no one can guarantee… but please, _please_ don't leave me. Even if the worst happens, and I," he swallowed hard, "lose all my magic and all my money, and my family disowns me, promise you'll stay with me and make it work."

Hermione's fingertips traced his lower lip slowly. "I understand now why you were so desperate for me to accept being your mistress. It wasn't for personal gain, as I'd thought. It wasn't your hubris. It was because it seemed the only way to have me and not lose any part of yourself." Her nose nuzzled his. "I'm _so __sorry_, Draco. I had no idea of the terrible choices you faced. I accused you of not loving me enough, when I didn't have all of the facts." She kissed him. "Why didn't you just tell me this from the start?"

Mortified by the truth, he took a deep, shuddering breath. "Because until today, when you looked me in the eye and told me you wanted to fight for us to be together, I wasn't certain of the depths of your feelings for me. You've been so reserved and closed to me, Hermione - protecting yourself, I know – but it made me… nervous. I'm Slytherin; I have problems trusting. I've only let a few people 'in,' and only after they've proven their loyalty. I wanted us to get to know each other better so we could be sure. That's why I kept inviting you to meet with me. But you kept shutting me out. I thought kidnapping you, bringing you far away and romancing you might change your mind, but you wouldn't let it happen. If I gave up everything for you without knowing your intentions and you decided three months from now that I wasn't what you wanted in the long term…"

"You'd have lost literally everything," she stated simply, without judgment. "I get that." She curled her leg over his thigh, and twined her arms about him, pressing her pliable, yielding body and her damp curls intimately to his awakening length once more. "I love you, Draco. I want you - _insanely_ so." They both smiled a bit at that. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth very gently to his. "We'll find a way to free you. I won't let you give up your powers."

Enticed by her soaking folds rubbing against him, he let his hands wander down the gentle slope of her spine, cupped her bum and pulled her over him as he rolled and lay on his back. "Grip the headboard," he bid, and when she did, he lifted her hips off of him, adjusted them correctly, and slowly reentered her soft, warm pussy. "Just be mine, Hermione. That's all I want - no matter what it takes."

She moved over him, taking him deep within her. "I'm yours," she reassured him over and over again, crying out her love to him in mutual release moments later, and this time, Draco let himself believe.

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**As with most of my fics, I've converted the metric distances and heights into ANSI standard (since the majority of my readers are from North America and use the latter system, not the former). Thankfully, converting everything from kilometers to miles, and centimeters to feet is made easy with online converters!**

**Abolocus = Latin for "no see." A spell I invented for my fics. It prevents spying, by blurring the people to anyone who may have the ability to see them (no ability to read lips or expressions, in other words).**

_******SONG THAT REFLECTS THIS CHAPTER SPECIFICALLY: **"I Walk The Line" by Johnny Cash _(actually, I love Joaquin Phoenix's version of it better than the original - SORRY! I know that's blasphemy - see it here [remove all spaces to make the URL work]: www . youtube . com / watch?v = T4bsIzsDNLs&feature = related)


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